Nemo Saltat Sobrius, Part I


daphne_icon.gif delilah_icon.gif eileen_icon.gif eve_icon.gif gillian_icon.gif helena_icon.gif melissa_icon.gif michael_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif leonardo_icon.gif logan_icon.gif nicole2_icon.gif peter7_icon.gif rachel_icon.gif raith_icon.gif sanderson2_icon.gif wendy_icon.gif

Scene Title Nemo Saltat Sobrius, Part I
Synopsis The Corinthian Hotel's ballroom is the centerpiece on the eve of its grand opening and the location around which both allies and enemies congregate.
Date February 22, 2010

The Corinthian: Ballroom

A hierarchy of spaces is the showcase of Corinthian's ballroom, which is reserved for formal functions hosted by the hotel and split into two levels. The first, accessed through an ornate pair of double doors fashioned from gold and glass, is a mezzanine supported by marble columns with elaborate capitals carved to portray bellflowers and wisps of colourless flame. It wraps around the room, providing many different vantage points from which to observe the happenings on the dance floor below, though there is only one way down, and this is a grand spiral staircase with shallow steps and a smooth banister made from the same white rock as the slender flutes above it.

An expansive marble floor provides plenty of space to waltz, tango or samba depending on what type of music is being played by the orchestra, which has its own section sequestered from the rest of the room. Thick rivers of silver wind across it and would almost seem out of place in the ballroom if their purpose was not to reflect its resplendent ceiling. Painted to depict the night sky, deep indigo with shady gray clouds and a bloated moon hanging fat amidst hundreds of tiny lights that glitter like stars when the other lightning in the room has been subdued, it takes the shape of a large dome roof and gives the illusion that the room is even larger than it is.

Roman gods and goddesses in the form of pale statuaries can be found throughout in places both expected and not, their stern, austere faces illuminated by a candlelit glow and a series of elegant crystal chandeliers. Fluffy smatterings of silver sponged here and there add contrast to warm gold walls spaced between giant glass windows overlooking New York City that span over fifty feet at a time and are twice as tall as they are long.

The glamour of the ballroom is what has attracted the majority of the Corinthian's guests to its grand opening, which is — at least so far — as sophisticated and alluring as the Linderman Group promised it would be.

This is partly because most of the men and women in attendance are treating the gala's 'elegantly conservative' dress code with the utmost seriousness. Tuxedos and strapless evening gowns with sweetheart necklines and contrasting ruffle trim represent only a small fraction of what they're are flaunting. The dance floor is a sea of fashionable sequins, beadwork and lace, silk dresses in all the colours of the rainbow that lap at its edges like waves on a smooth marble shore studded with rhinestones.

Adding to the splendor is a live orchestra playing a combination of classical concertos in tribute to the masters — Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Mozart and Bach — as well as renditions of more modern and contemporary pieces for the benefit of those who do not have an ear for work rooted in the traditions of Western liturgical and secular music.

Tables on the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor have been draped in white cloth and are tended by the Corinthian's waitstaff serving sparkling champagne and an impressive variety of both red and white wines from regions across the world to reflect New York City's unique cultural heritage. There are of course hors d'ouvres making the rounds on small trays, too.Tequila marinated shrimp, imported caviar on toast and brie cheese boats drizzled with pear sauce are all on the menu along with items that are not served cold, such as the peppered beef tenderloin, Singapore satays and the always popular sea scallops wrapped in bacon. Whenever the last morsel has been plucked from a tray, it returns to the kitchen to be re-plattered. It's already eight o'clock, and so far there haven't been any shortages of food for the hungry.

Both Daniel Linderman and Angela Petrelli, dressed in black and silver respectively, have made appearances this evening at times together and at times apart, though neither of them can be found in the ballroom now. There are also rumours that President Petrelli and the first lady are here tonight, but so far the rumours have been just that: speculation. No confirmed sightings, only whispered stories of a man with a square jaw, a pretty wife swathed in turquoise on his arm and a small entourage of penguin-suited body guards, dark glasses on their faces and thin coils of translucent wire attached to their ears.

Melissa has been at the party for a short while, but has only just made her way into the ballroom. She walks in, the sound of her heels lost in the music and sound of conversation, her lips curved into a pleased smile. Though one might not expect a goth to be at a party like this one, much less enjoying it, she is. After a long look around, at both the room and the people, she begins to move again, slowly making a circuit of the ballroom.

It's unsurprising that the President's brother is an hour late to the gala, the Petrelli family has always had a sense of dramatic timing when it comes to social functions. While this may be the first full-on social event that Peter has participated in since his brother's senatorial campaign three years ago, that inborn Petrelli sense of timing has not dulled in the least; it's like riding a bicycle in that you never really forget.

Grand entrances were always his brother's fare, and Peter's arrival is a more subdued one than Nathan would have managed. Jacket long since shed at the coat room and tuxedo looking the proper part classical and fashionable from its trim cut. Perhaps more like his brother though, is Peter's choice of arm-hung accessory being the tall and blonde variety. There's certain traits that a Petrelli simply can't avoid, it's in their genetics, and picking a woman that underlines and accents their presence in a formal event the way a tie does to a good suit is one of them.

"…and stop looking so nervous," Peter offers with a hushed tone of voice between himself and that aforementioned woman arriving on one arm, "trust me you look gorgeous." Despite the reassurances, it's quite likely that Kaylee Anne Thatcher still has reservations about this whole thing, for reasons unknown to Peter.

Its amazing how out of place one can feel at a party. The marine is sitting stiffly at a table to herself, wearing a pastel pink dress that isn't overly revealing but does flatter her regardless. Her hands clutch at the small purse that goes with the dress, knuckles white as she tries to not seem to be completely ill at ease. Everyone at the base had said it would be a wonderful oppurtunity to meet people, perhaps make connections that would go past Frontline, and Rachel had agreed. At the moment, she wishes she had acted on her thought to grab Michael and teleport him in here with her. At least he was a fellow soldier and she would have someone to talk to who she knew.

Looking down at her lap, and adjusting her legs Rachel reminds herself of how to sit like a proper lady. Too much time in soldier's fatiques and not enough time in dresses, or so her Grandma might admonish her. That brings a bittersweet smile to her face as she thinks about the people who raised her, hearing their voices as if in a distant past. Always being critical over something or the other. She was not very open to it back then, but these days, she understands what her grandparents were trying to do and she does thank them for it on a certain level.

As the music stops for a moment, to change songs, Rachel is brought out of her revery and glances up to see some of the entrances that are being made. Not that she really recognizes any of them, having been in Iraq for so long and New York politics not exactly being her area of interest, even after the Midtown Bombings.

After a jaunt to Paris and back, Daphne is over by the table of free food and drink. She has a metabolism to fuel, after all, and champagne and brie are two of her favorite things. Somehow she's managed to tame her unruly locks into soft pin curls, the dreadlocks curled into little rosettes and kept in place by sparkling bobby pins. The dress is something not at all in her usual style — a white, gauzy halter-topped gown with an empire waist that cascades to the floor, fluidly floating around her lithe limbs when she moves. Feet are in silvery, strappy heels that bring her scant height up a couple of inches. God forbid she needs to run anywhere, or she'll just pull her shoes off and leave them at this palace like some Cinderella.

As Daphne sips a glass of champagne, her dark eyes dart around the ballroom, taking in the guys and dolls in their finest. She looks amused at the theatrics of some, actually snorting into her champagne flute when one rather drunk guest stumbles on his date's too-dramatic train of an over-the-top gown.
Helena has arrived.

The soft slate gray fabric of her gown, switches lightly around her legs and swishes across the ground as she moves. The combination of the sheer and silk fabric, gives it a light and airy look. Occasionally, there is a hint of long leg, criss crossed in silver laces attached to a very thin sole sandal so that she doesn't stand taller then her date.

Long blonde hair moves across her bare shoulder blades, only strips of fabric keep the dress in place across her back, as she glances at Peter, giving him a slightly flat look. He can obviously feel how her manicured nails clutch tightly at his arm. "Easy for you say.." She murmurs back, though she tries to keep a pleasant smile on her face. "You grew up in this."

Kaylee takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, as she has a hard time relaxing knowing what will be more then likely going down. There is a debt to pay… but for now she'll just enjoy being on the arm of a good looking guy.

A dark haired woman stands next to one of the tables and looks around the room. Light grey eyes scan the room and the people in it, she thought. Why not come, last time Linderman threw a bash Kazimir showed up and tried to take his hand off, this has to be just as exciting no? Eve Mas thinks this aloud as looks out the windows and the light catches her eyes in a nice way. She so wishes that she had brought Nanai, the snake would have loved to meet all of these people, that's for sure.

Her dress one of a flattering strapless red cut, flows out around her, a slit up her leg. Black heels click on the floor as she shuffles. Her hair spills out in waves to the middle of her back, eye makeup dark but not so much. Just enough to make the singer's eyes pop even more, something that might look a little scary to the people gathered.

"«Grazie.»" she says to the waiter that hands her a shrimp thingy or something. Quite a few of the people here whisper and some even point, the famed singer that has just returned to the Orchid Lounge after a mysterious disappearance is here. Anyone that knows her would realize that Eve looks.. sane. Saner than she's ever looked before. Maybe her mind is at rest on some things?

Whatever the case, Eve begins to make her way over to the dance floor when she notices Rachel sitting by herself. What the heck, the two are both alone soo.. "Don't you hate coming to these things alone? Though I'd much rather come alone in my own independence then hanging on the arm of some asshole guy, to be showed off like a 1967 fully loaded black hardtop Ford Mustang." She says softly to the other woman and smiles gently. Yes, she likes cars.

Some simply don't believe in being fashionably late, in fact, in the business world being punctual is quite important. Leonardo, dressed in a white tux with silvery ornate designs, almost like a modern regalia, has been walking around, introducing Eileen to anyone he sees. She's like his new toy and he wants everyone to see, but won't share, damnit.

RIght now they're just talking to a random rich couple, and he's telling them a random shallow socialite story. "So they try to say 'We're having Dave Matthews for our party's entertainment', so of course I retort; 'Oh? I'm sure Brad, Angelina, and the 2009 Victoria's Secret cover girls would love to hear it, that is, if you're going to my party'." which is met with a few haughty laughs.

Ahh, free alcohol. More importantly, free GOOD alcohol. Melissa has no problem smiling and taking a glass off the tray of a passing server, sipping at it before she continues to make her way around the room, looking at all the pretty people. There's a mildly amused look on her face, and she makes no move to talk to anyone. Then again, being new to New York, she doesn't really KNOW anyone, so it's not that surprising. However, she does look towards the dance floor, looking a little wistful at those already out there and dancing.

Despite Cat's recent tragedy, she not only had it in her to show, but to pave the way for some of her friends to come as well. And one of those is Helena, who perhaps for the first time in nearly three years, is wearing an honest-to-god gown. Silvery-white, one shouldered, hair pulled back in a loose knot, Helena is doing her best to keep her complete and utter glee at this chance to actually look like a woman that it's reduced her subconscious self into a six year old girl. Which is bad luck for Brain Cameron, who probably never in his life wanted to be a squealing six year old girl. Outwardly of course, she is calm and composed, though occaisionally wobbly from shoes with heels. She stands to one side of the ballroom, watching people dance and keeping an eye out for certain faces.

Rachel looks over at Eve as the woman in red approaches her and the Marine smiles a little, before she replies, "Honestly? I'd rather face a never ending horde of Al Queda before this." She smirks a little, before looking out over the ballroom for a couple of moments, before she says, "I'm Rachel Mills, by the way." The woman brings her hand up from her lap to shake Eve's, if she lets her. The teleporter mostly quiet for now.

The only person not laughing is Leonardo's companion for the evening, and it isn't because she's drinking from a flute filled with sparkling champagne. Dressed in an ivory gown made from sheer gauze and taffeta with a fitted bodice and flower embroidery, Eileen is neither breathtaking nor particularly captivating. Her decision not to make any dramatic choices was a deliberate one, either to teach Leonardo a lesson about flaunting women or to ensure that she doesn't compromise her position by drawing attention to herself.

She isn't here to socialize.

An English rose with silky white petals is the most elaborate piece of her outfit as well as a last minute addition, and she wears it behind one ear in the dark curls of her soft brown hair.

The older woman chuckles and tilts her head, "You're apart of the government's armed forces?" she asks as she extends her hand to shake Rachel's. "Eve Mas." She replies back and then looks around and spots Eileen with the 'asshole' that she was unknowingly referring too. "Well, like that guy there. Showing off my friend with the rose in her head? Jerk." She says softly, giving Rachel a lopsided smile. The woman drags a hand through her long mane before settling her gaze back onto Rachel.

Part of the only reason that Delilah came to the gala was that she could play Pretty Pretty Princess. Helena wanting to exude her inner woman was another reason, and Delilah is always up to that. Always. The redhead is over with Helena, but not quite being successful at restraining herself from grabbing some handsome man and dragging him away by the tux. So as a stand-in, Delilah has been repeatedly mugging the various waiters and waitresses for whatever tasty treats they might currently be taking around. She is not old enough to drink, even here, and she is not about to break the law so obviously in such a nice place. The gown she wears is a brilliant pastel yellow- the color of a fluffy Easter chick, to be precise. There are some glittery patterns over the strapless bodice, and the skirt is gauzy and puffy on her, though the bodice does enough to create her figure. Delilah's red hair is curled and swept partly back; the locks that fall are pulled over the front of one shoulder, tips contrasting with the rather sprightly yellow.

"Oh, goodness, you need to try the shrimp puffs love." She offers Helena her little plate full of tidbits, already having been virtually filling her bottomless pit of a stomach for a few moments.

Leading Kaylee out a little bit further into the ballroom, Peter comes to a stop and turns to face her fully, letting an arm slide out from around hers, one hand on her elbow. "Come on, relax. I promise not to ask you to dance if that makes you feel any better?" He's teasing, clearly, from the crooked smile being offered to the blonde, and also the way he casts brown eyes up at her. "Or maybe I'll make you for wearing heels and making me look shorter than I already feel." There's more warmth in that comment, along with a shake of his head and a gentle, encouraging squeeze of her arm.

"Come on, there's a bunch of friends here I'd like to introduce you to…" He gives a gentle nudge of her shoulder, offering a lopsided smile still before his hand moves down from her elbow, takes her hand and lifts it up gracefully, then tries to lead her across the periphery of the ballroom floor, making direct headway towards where he's spotted Eve and the unfamiliar brunette with her.

Recognizing first Kaylee and then Helena from a surreal dreamscape that seems so very far away makes the speedster frown — the dream from just a few days past had been pushed aside to be ignored and hopefully forgotten. The memory has no place in this ballroom filled with mirth — or feigned mirth, as the place may be. She picks up another glass of champagne and moves toward the atmokinetic, her dress rustling softly as she moves across the corner of the dance floor. "If I know you from where I think I know you, you could really use a drink," Daphne quips to Helena, then smiles at Delilah in her Eastery-yellow dress. "I love your dress. Nice to see some color in here. I'm wishing I'd gone for the neon green instead of this boring Marilyn knock off." Maybe she was inspired by Logan's guardian angel.

After a while, Leonardo is suddenly leading Eileen away, looking through the crowd again. "You look very lovely tonight, Eileen. I'd like to dance with you, before we leave. Don't worry, I'll lead."

His head quickly snaps in the direction of Eve, then Peter Petrelli, and back again. Which one to approach… "Are you familiar with Peter Petrelli? The last thing I heard, he was some sort of vagabond, but that's just rumor of course, from years ago when his brother was running for mayor. And her there," he subtly points out Eve. "She's a singer from the Orchid Lounge, fairly good. I hear she hasn't had any work done at all, impressive."

Rachel smiles faintly before she says, "Formerly a part of the military, I think is my status at the moment. They actually, never made that very clear to me. I should get around to asking. But, regardless." She shrugs her shoulders, and follows Eve's gaze, and says, "Indeed, I can see what you mean." She frowns, and drinks a bit of her own champagne. "I'd still rather be facing terrorists then this," she adds.

Melissa finally stops walking, finding a spot off to the side, with a good view of the dancers whirling around to the music. She's out of the way, though not hidden away, just out of the flow of traffic. The slightly amused smile lingers on her lips as she sips at the champagne, her gaze and attention moving around, rarely lingering on anyone for more than a moment.

"Whose they?" she asks with a smile, "Ah, don't worry. These people in here are harmless. Except for the spoiled wives.. they will look you up and down.. and the spoiled husbands just looking for a fling.. ok I guess not so harmless." Eve says with a chuckle.

"Hello Peter."

She says with turning around, then looking over her shoulder to give the man a sly smile she dips her head in his direction until she is turned around to face all three people. "Rachel Mills, this is my good friend Peter Petrelli, Peter this is Rachel Mills." She makes the introduction before settling her gaze on the blonde telepath, "And who is your pretty young friend?" she asks with a light grin in Peter's direction.

Helena says, "Ooh." Helena helps herself to a shrimp puff and takes a delicate nibble. Espying Kaylee and Peter, and by extension Eve and her brunette friend, she murmurs wryly, "Huh." and then casts her eyes further afield. "I heard Michael Spaulding was going to be here." she murmurs conspiratorally to Dee. "I'd like to meet him again…for the first time.""

"Dancing around all these people isn't an issue.." Kaylee comments back with a chuckle, and an smirk of her own. "I worked at Old Lucy's after all. Plus, it'll be nice to see the classes my granma made me take pay off." She gives a little defiant tilt her chin, "And no complaining about the height.. Or I'll make sure to wear taller heals next time."

There telepath's fingers grip Peter's, as she lets him pull her across the floor, the humming of voices loud in her head, but so far not unbearable. Her other hand resting on his arm as she looks around at some of the other face, recognizing some from the dream scape. "Lead the way, Mr. Petrelli." She comments lightly, giving him a bright smile. Though her eyes fall to Eve and Rachel as they approach, giving her a bit of an uncertain smile.
"Pleasure,"Peter offers with a tip of his head in greeting to Rachel. "Good to see that even people in Frontline get to let their hair down from time to time, I thought I recognized you." There's a good-natured grin on Peter's face, but also an assessing look to Rachel, followed by a squint. It's the kind of look a mugger gives someone when sizing up how much money they might have, even if Peter's in the market for something other than someone's wallet; genetic theft is more of a lender's market anyway.

"Eve, this is Kaylee Thatcher," a hand motions across from Kaylee to the singer, "Kaylee this is my friend Eve Mas. She and I go a few years back, she's the singer who works the Orchid Lounge I told you about?" The one he was supposed to see perform but instead spent that night hunched over Eric Doyle's bloodied form. "Kaylee's a good friend of mine and, I guess former houseguest." There'a a crack of a smile to Eve as Peter makes the comment. It's only now that Peter catches sight of Helena and her redheaded friend out of his periphery, and the look on his face is both a mildly awkward one but also ponderous, trying to remember where he might have seen that redhead before.

Delilah is quick to smile down to Daphne, herself in little heels despite already towering, apparently. Helena likes the puff and Daphne likes her dress! Two successes so close together. "I was going to wear something extra funky, but at the last second I sort of got some sense put into me." She turns her head as Helena muses into her inner bubble(no pun intended), smiling more subdued instead. "I hope so too- it's not like something would happen here, right? I saw the size of those gorillas in those tuxedos!"

Green eyes move between Eve Mas' slim figure and that of Peter Petrelli, which is also slender but in its own masculine way. There's no one here who can take Eileen by surprise unless they're not supposed to be. She's spent too many hours poring over the guest list provided to her by John Logan and memorizing the names belonging to the men and women whose attendance tonight has the potential to jeopardize her real reason for accepting Leonardo's invitation.

Petrelli's is among them. She scrutinizes Peter's back in more of that stony silence, saying nothing for the time it takes her to drain what's left of her champagne and discard the empty flute on the next tray that's ferried by. Then; "I'm familiar."

Rachel smiles at Peter and inclines her head a bit. "NIce to meet you," she says, before she looks over Eve and says, "Exactly, and besides, dieing is far less worse of a fate than being publically shamed by the powerful of the city." She winks, at Eve. Peter's comment catches her off-guard for sure, but she manages to recover quickly enough, "I was kinda hoping to keep that one on the down low. Don't need any one going ahead and memorizing my face for later things."

"It's more sensible than most," the speedster in white assures Delilah. "Do you see that train? I mean, who is she, Lady Diana?" Daphne juts her chin toward the woman with the ridiculous train on her purple gown and gives a shake of her blonde head and takes a sip of the champagne to wash down her disgust. "You ladies have a good evening. I'm going to go find some guy to pretend to be my date. Think he'll do?" The glance is toward one of the waiters, albeit a cute one, on the far side of the room. It's hard to tell if she's serious or not, as she moves in that direction.

"Ah, Frontline. Your secret is safe with me." She says softly to Rachel and winks at the young woman before she extends her hand for Kaylee's. "A pleasure to meet you, you have to come with Peter one day to hear me sing. If he ever shows up." She grins at Kaylee and then looks to Peter. Her eyes twinkling in the light, when he smiles. She can't help it and she does the first thing of the night that everyone might find weird but Peter would just say is Eve being Eve. She reaches out and touches Peter's face briefly, "That smile, good to see it." The seer happy for her friend and happy to see him happy. Then onto other topics, "How's work? Paramedic and stuff, so I can definitely call you if Nanai ever decides to bite me?" For Rachel and Kaylee's benefit, "Nanai's my snake, I wanted to bring her but I don't think the guest would be very happy." She says with a snicker. Oh Eve.. always the troublemaker.

Eve's gaze travels around the room before she looks back at the three in front of her.

"Nice to meet you Eve.. Rachel." The blonde nods to both in turn, offering them a bright smile. Eve's had it taken briefly, "I apologize.. for his not showing up at least once. In fact, he had invited me along, but some thinkg important had happened and waylaid it." A sideways glance is sent to Peter at the mention of being a former house guest. "He got me out of a tight spot with allowing me to sleep his couch." Brows lift at the mention of a snake… since with recent events a snake tends to bring back memories of one in the dreamscape. "A snake really?" She asks rather amused.

Noticing him looking else where, Kaylee turns her head, to follow his gaze. "Oh! Delilah.. I need to remember to say hello to her." If she has a chance considering… "She looks great in that dress too." Another figure in the room, pulls Kaylee's attention, as she headed the telepath's way, A small nod is given to Eileen, before she turns back to the current conversation.

"Good. What better friend to make than the brother of the President of the United States? Let's go." Leonardo starts leading Eileen through the crowd of people, nodding at a few here and there. His phone vibrates for a second, and he pulls it from his pocket, checking the name. "Whoever keeps giving Meatloaf my number is getting fired."

Finally, a few feet from Peter, he offers a slight wave. "Peter Petrelli! We've never met, but I'm familiar with your brother. I trust you're doing great things these days." he says before offering a hand.

Melissa lingers where she is, though the gathering that gets larger as more people join it soon draws her attention. She looks over the different faces of those chatting away, as her empty glass is set on a tray and a fresh one taken. Mmm. Booze!

Daphne has left.

Helena is still looking for the elusive form of Michael Spaulding. Maybe he's not here tonight. She notices the incoming Kaylee and Peter, and reaching for a napkin, hastily wipes her fingers, crumbles it up and looks for a place to toss it. Waiter…waiter…oh crap. She curls it up tight and shoves it into her offhand in a little ball, giving Dee a nudge. "Here come Kaylee and Peter." The free hand reaches up to touch her hair. And then they're intercepted. Hooray! In time for a waiter to pass by and for Helena to drop the napkin off. Success! She leans in to Dee a little bit - people are going to start thinking the girls are on a date.

Leaning over to nudge one arm at Kaylee's side, Peter cracks a smile. "Don't hesitate to break off if you want to, but I might just change my mind about that dance thing." After the quiet comment, he's focusing back to Eve with a crooked smile, unaware of the next guest entering the ballroom behind him. "Yeah, I'm doing the paramedic thing now. Started on Friday, and you won't believe who I've been partnered with…" Grinning from ear to ear, Peter shakes his head as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Abigail Beauchamp," there's a raise of his dark brows at the name, lips crooked into that grin still. "It's worked out pretty well."

Behind Peter, there's the presence of a man that — tangentally — he should know. But for all Michael Spalding is nearly the spitting image of his late brother Cameron, the two have no shared history worth commiserating on, aside from an equally rocky relationship with the pyrokinetic. Michael's entrance comes arm-in-arm with a short and young blonde woman in a sapphire colored dress with black lace trim. Adelle Sanderson is more of a familiarity to those that participated in Operation: Apollo than anything else; her enlistment with Frontline Squad-01 was an understated affair.

"God tell me we don't have to be here too long…" Sanderson grouses under her breath in the doorway, "I— really hate these kinds of things. Anxiety building crap." Her blue eyes flick up to Michael, and his response is just a laugh and a shake of his head.

"Don't worry about it, really. Go get yourself a drink and relax, and hey— " He motions with a nod over towards Eve's group, "I think that's Mills, right?" Sanderson casts a look in that direction, nodding her head once. "Go take the edge off, I'm going to go make the rounds and smile and then we can both get out of here."

"That's Pete, always helping out a friend." She says and looks between the two and then to Rachel. "Nyeah, don't worry about it. Just come one night soon, I have loads of new material. Well.. everything would be new to you but you know." She grins lightly and looks at Rachel, "You too, even though I'm sure you're busy. I'm sure you'll need some time to relax and regroup. The Lounge is a great place to do that." Angela should promote for her advertising the place so well.

"Ah yes, Nanai is my ball python. Pretty important in southern eastern Nigeria, revered as a sacred animal. Cute thing she is, not to particular of Tiger, he tried to eat her once.." then tears start to fill up her eyes. "My poor cat.. my poor baby.." she wipes her eyes a little and then looks towards the three people in front of her. "My cat.. was drowned." She says softly and then shakes her head, "Sorry, you must think I'm a weird cat lady or something." She says to everyone and then chuckles, she doesn't say that she was the one that drowned the cat.. it was the Nightmare Man's fault! Honest!

When Raphael comes closer and calls out to Peter, Eve rolls her eyes before she looks at the man closer. He looks familiar, and then she gets it. She dreamt of him before, he's a bad man. A really bad man, in her eyes. Eileen is given a direct look, as if to say, 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH HIM??' Something she actually thinks aloud, if Kaylee were to pick up on it. Maybe she should have brought Nanai.

"Haha, Abby? How is she? I haven't seen her in ages." She says and tilts her head.

"Go get'em, tiger." Delilah says this past the funnel of one hand as Daphne prepares to accost one of the primly dressed waiters. "And if he's got scallops bring some back please." Well, so long as she's going over! The redhead remains happily oblivious to anyone peering at her from across gaggles, looking content in her space for now. At least, until Helena points things out and she is left looking around, startled, that they might be set upon at any moment(!). Helena edges closer, and Dee responds by lifting her hand and putting it reassuringly at the blonde's back. Not a date, really really.

"Oh, I see her." Kaylee is easier to spot if only out of familiarity. "And there- isn't that your fellow you were looking for?" Lilah is unhindered in her blatant pointing gesture towards the door where Sanderson and Spalding have arrived.

Rachel looks over behind Peter and spots Michael and Sanderson, and she smiles lightly. Company, and no, Michael probably won't end up leaving too quickly, he's one that Rachel has been wanting to see, more so because she knows that she can at least talk to him and know that he is just as uncomfortable, she thinks. She hasn't really been able to completely gauge his personality. Oh well, plenty of time to do that om base. Looking back towards Eve she says, "That's so sad." Not that she really commiserates, she never had pets. Grandma wouldn't let her. Stupid allergies.

Eileen allows herself to be led, dutiful and morose, a wisp of pale fabric and paler skin contrasting against the black formal wear of the men she and Leonardo pass along the way, none of which give her a second glance. She is nobody's girlfriend, nobody's wife, and the fact that she is attached to Mr. Maxwell's arm is entirely inconsequntial to almost everyone except Mr. Maxwell himself.

When Leonardo thrusts out his hand for Peter to take, she touches one small hand to his elbow and murmurs something that only her escort can hear before she gently extracts herself from his hold and slips off into the crowd like a silvery fish released back into the water.

Though she's only drank half of her current glass of champagne, Melissa sets it aside and begins to stride forward, towards that group of chattering people. She's smiling, hasn't stopped really since she entered, but there's a hint of mischief to it now, and showing in her eyes. Uh oh. Maybe she recognizes Peter as Nathan's brother, maybe she just goes for short men, but it seems that it's him her sights are set on for the moment. However, when she reaches the group she beams a warm smile at them as a whole. "Good evening, everyone. I hope no one minds, but I was hoping to steal away this handsome man for a dance. It would be a shame to be at an event like this one and not have a dance," she says, glancing at Kaylee, to see her reaction to the attempted theft of her date, then to Peter, her head tilting slightly, a brow arching questioningly.

A glance goes to Raphael, giving him a once over, brows dropping slightly. Hmmm. Finally, she just turns back to Eve giving her a grin at her thought. Though it falls at the mention of her cat.. "Oh.. I'm so sorry to hear about your cat, Eve." She then glances at Peter. "Well, if you insist.. I'll go say hello to Delilah at least." Her fingers give his a squeeze. "I better get a dance later, Mr. Petrelli. We should also say hello to your mother."

As Melissa asserts herself, Kaylee chuckles and waves her too it. "Have at it.. Who am I to keep the man from dancing with the ladies. She gives him a wink. Just save one for me, mister. I didn't dress up for nothing. Before she lets her hand slide from Peter's to make her way over to Delilah and Helena.

Leonardo sighs slightly, suddenly finding himself dateless. But he refocuses on the matter at hand, and this close to Kaylee, the loud and booming word, «Petrelli!» yells from his mind, in contrast to the calm demeanor with which he offers his hand again. "Ahem, excuse me, my date's having a bit of a headache. As I was saying, I trust you're doing well for yourself, Peter Petrelli? Not quite the vagabond I used to hear you were, back in your brother's mayoral running days."

Then Melissa comes, and he groans slightly when she drags him away. There's the loud mental note of: «Seal her in a block of metal, throw into the river, ASAP.»

It's as if time stops momentarily for Eve and she blinks as she looks behind Peter at.. Cam's brother. "Fuck." She says softly, though everyone would have been able to hear it. She blinks a few times and looks down and then away and then her gaze snaps right back to the man. He looks so much like him.. the woman shakes her head and then tries to focus back on the conversation. "What?" she asks whomever had been speaking, "Peter.. I.." she wants to ask Peter for his advice but, looks like he's about to be stolen away. "I.." she can't seem to get words out and she can't seem to look away from Micheal seems like.

She's tried not thinking of Cameron for the past few months with little success and seeing Michael opens old wounds in Eve's heart. The seer nods in Kaylee's direction and then looks to Rachel and says, "You know him.. C-Michael Spadling?" she asks with a look back over towards the man.

"Yeah, I see him now." Helena whispers to Dee. There's a sudden clutch of the hand, and she squeezes the redhead's. "I'm going to go over to say hello." Hi, I'm Helena Dean, the last person to see your brother alive. And sometimes I see him now that he's dead. Would you like a shrimp puff? She smiles tightly at her companion. "Wish me luck!" And off she goes.

Her path takes her in the direction one Michael Spaulding, and in fact, takes her in a smooth veer right around Eve and Peter and up to Cameron's older brother. "Hello." she says solemnly, and nothing more than that. Michael knows who she is, but how will he react?

Practically jumping out of his skin at the psychic shout, Peter jerks around the way someone might if they got an electrical zap across the back of the neck. Completely forgetting Rachel and Eve, Peter angles a look over at Leonardo, then down to the offered hand and then up towards the younger man with a squint. "You're… Leonardo Maxwell, right? I remember your father coming around during campaign time to make contributions. I ah… yeah it's wonderful to meet you again, so…" There's a look offered askance as someone comes up to just ask him to dance out of the blue, and Peter's missing the one very important component of all of this — Eileen was just here.

Subliminal grandfatherly tendencies may have given Leonardo more scrutiny had he known; there's still a little Volken in him somewhere, even if it's just vestiges of memories.

Smiling, as if lady luck herself had just smiled down on him, Peter reaches out to rest a hand on Melissa's shoulder and step away from Leonardo. "Sorry Mister Maxwell, but duty calls." He offers with a raise of his brows and a crooked smile, rather hastily ushering Melissa away from Leonardo and the small group without so much as an introduction until they're out of earshot, hand maving moved down to between her shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially to her.

"Thanks," he murmurs, one brow lifted in crooked query, "I owe you one for that. Last thing I wanted to do was talk to old business partners of my brother's…" He offers the younger woman a side-long look once they're out on the dance floor, a hand held out for her to take. "Name's Peter, by the way. I… don't think we actually got introduced." No need for last names, really, if she doesn't already know it's for the better. From across the ballroom, Peter catches Kaylee out of the corner of his eyes, just offering her a subtle nod.

Confusion paints itself across Michael's face as he looks down to the blonde approaching him. His reaction was almost a dismissive one, but the sudden recognition of her face comes with a crease of his brows and a gaping expression. He doesn't — can't — say anything. This isn't how he pictured the meeting going down after he talked to Elisabeth, and he wasn't prepared to confront her like this, in this place, in this frame of mind.

What's the best way to injure the nigh-invulnerable man? Catch him off-guard.

Delilah nods to Helena, hands clutched just above her breast in the universal sign of hopefulness. "Good luck!" She smiles bright as Helena moves away, a whisk of pride in her eyes. Yay! Oh! Her eyes catch Kaylee coming nearer, and Dee lifts her fingers to wave speedily at her with the hovering hand. Then both hands find her fluffy skirt before she lifts her feet to sidle in to meet Kaylee on her way to her.

"Hi! You look great, Kaylee. Oh my god she got over there-" Delilah is promptly distracted when she spots Helena past shoulders confronting Michael Spalding, leaning herself in closer to KAylee and gesturing(this time, in a small manner) towards where the blonde girl had gone. "Ohhhh, I hope he doesn't flip out."

Rachel sees the look on Michael's face and gets the hint that now is really not the time to talk. So as Eve starts sputtering, Rachel stands up and walks towards Sanderson, "So, you hate this kind of thing about as much as I do," Rachel asks the other Marine.

Melissa laughs softly at being thanked for stealing Peter away, and she takes his hand. "You're very welcome, Peter. I'm Melissa. And no, we've never been introduced. I don't know anywhere here, really, actually. Which is why I stole you away for a dance," she says, smiling. Then she leans in slightly, stage whispering in a teasing tone, "I just hope you won't step on my toes. I'm looking forward to my first dance in the city."

"Well then." Leonardo shakes his head once Peter's gone, and turns to head in Eve's last known direction, until he finally spots her. "Let's set up the inevitable adventure to find out if she really has had work done." he mutters to himself before finally approaching her.

"Eve Mas!" he greets with a bright smile, as if they were old friends despite never quite meeting, then offers her a hand. "I've seen you in the Orchid Lounge a few times. Where have you been?"

"This isn't the time," Helena acknowledges as she gazes up at the taller man, "But I…wanted to say hello. And that I'm available at your convenience to talk." Helena's bare shoulder lifts in an apologetic shrug, and then with a furrowed brow, she starts stepping back and away. Bad idea jeans, Helena. Bad idea jeans.

"Hey, girlie." Kaylee offers Delilah brightly, giving a wiggle of fingers in return. "Look at you! I love the dress. It's very much you, I must say." Turning to see what Delilah is talking about, brows lift upward at the man Helena is approaching. "Whoa… It's like freakin' eye candy around here… Course, my date is grabbing his own amount of attention." She sighs softly and glances at the door.

"I hate to do this.. but I have to go see if there is some one here." She leans over and touches her cheek to Dee's making it look like she's giving her a cheek kiss, but instead whispers. "Make sure Peter doesn't get in over his head.. huh?" She pulls back and grins at the red head, giving her a wink, and turns to make her way too the door. She has a man to hunt down, since Kaylee didn't comes her to just have fun.

The seer's eyes are wide as she stares at Michael, whose engaged in conversation with Helena. Eve looks over to Rachel and then back to Michael. She never expected to meet Michael in a place like this, she was just gonna wait til she dreamt of him and then show up and say hi and then walk away. Sounds like a good plan, right?

The singer looks to Leonardo and takes his hand to shake and then she's staring at him with a detached expression, now that she's seen him, all thought of how evil Leonardo is isn't really on her mind. "I've been sick, terribly sick. But yes, I have returned to the Lounge, if you would excuse me." She says this all rather fast. Eve looks at everyone she's standing next too and then makes a beeline to leave the immediate area. Though she's walking a bit too fast when she walks by Michael and Helena and her shoulder bumps the man, though Eve's slender form wouldn't budge the man. "Sorry, hi." She says briefly to Michael and then she's looking at Helena for a second and blinking at the blonde before nodding in her direction. Helena's backing away and she's standing next to Micheal.. alone. "Sorry again." She says softly and looks away and then back to Helena and then over to Peter. Why is everyone leaving me?? she thinks aloud and shakes her head. Maybe she should try and inch her way out the door, away from the man that she doesn't know what to say too.

"I'll make sure. Maybe steal him a little myself." Kaylee only makes it look like a cheek kiss, but Delilah actually is bold enough to plant a little one on the tall blonde before she slips away. Oh, exciting. But there is Helena, turning herself around and making to come back; Dee sidles back to where they were standing to be easily sought, eyes briefly going off to find Peter and Melissa, who she has since recognized.

Kaylee has left.

"Well, that was brief." Leonardo says with a slight shrug, then heads into the crowd. Have to track down Eileen to make sure she's not being anti-social!

Raphael has left.

"Harrison told me…" Is all Michael can offer out to Helena, and the look in his eyes is a haunted one. Casting a side-long glance towards where Sanderson has now been delayed by Rachel, there's a look back over to Helena, and Michael reaches into his tuxedo jacket to withdraw a cell phone. It's flipped open, turned around and offered out to Helena, all while he does his level best to try and maintain a neutral expression despite seeming to be teetering on some kind of emotional edge.

"Put your number in," Michael discretely explains, glancing over towards the crowd and then back to Helena, trying to keep an eye on how many people are watching him solicit a phone number from a young woman who may or may not have had terrorist connections and happens to be at the gala. It's making his head spin.

Speaking of spinning heads, Peter is a bit at a loss for the approach of an attractive young woman to have been made, where it doesn't outwardly seem like she's trying to angle him for a political pull with his brother. Peter's expression shows that awkward, grimacing confusion plainly. "I ah, well— " he manages to steer his grimace into something more friendly, like a smile. "I— ah, I'm an alright dancer," which is to say he hasn't done it in quite a while.

"I'll warn you the last time I danced was at my brother's wedding." There's a grimacing quality to Peter's smile again as he lays a hand down on the small of Melissa's back, the other hand taking hers. Thankfully it's nothing complicated, the music itself keeps a slow enough pace that box stepping amidst the crowd of dancers doesn't look too terribly out of place.

"So, Melissa, was it?" One brow comes up, "Hope I'm not ruining your first dance in the city…" Peter admits with a laugh, teeth toying with his lower lip in consideration of the self-deprecating comment.

All the way across the ballroom by the wine bar, Adelle Sanderson slouches up against the bar with one brow raised and a glass tilted back to her lips. Staring at Michael and Helena, her eyes narrow as her nose wrinkles, silent in answer to Rachel's question for a long while before all she answers back with is a grumbling, grousing, "Yep."

Rachel looks over at Michael and Helena, before shrugging her shoulders a little and then looking back at Sanderson and saying, "Yeah… if it were me, I'd rather be back on the ground in Madagascar." Yes, it was a hell hole, and probably not a good place to mention. But, she knows Sanderson was there, and it is a common ground to start a friendship on.

Oh, but for Wireless' gift right now! Taking the phone, Helena plugs a number in, and offers it elbow height discreetly back to Michael. "I know what Harrison told you. At least, I'm pretty sure I am. When you're ready, when there's time, you call." Once the phone is back in Michael's hands, Helena gives him a brief, tight smile, and then she does actually turn and walk away, leaving him to his bemusement as she makes a beeline for the safety of Delilah. Who is totally not her date. Really.

Melissa seems amused by Peter's awkwardness, and she slides easily from standing to dancing. She's a very good dancer, though she does let Peter lead, honest. "Do I make you uncomfortable, Peter? I promise, I don't mean to. I just wanted to dance, and thought you might accomodate me," she explains. Her head tilts, smiling as she studies her dance partner's face. "But no, you're not ruining my first dance. My toes are still intact, after all."

Delilah may or may not have ants in her pants by the time Helena is actually coming back. She practically wiggles right out of her dress, so that is a probably about the ants. Safety of Delilah indeed- when Helena gets there she loops a gentle forearm around Helena's, casting a glance back over her shoulder towards Michael as she does so. He doesn't know her, likely never will, but it is fine to guess that if she is with Helena- that she is tagging along with other things too.

"I hope he calls. He was getting your number, right?" Dee leans in to whisper, keeping this entirely between the two of them.

Eve is still standing next to Michael and then she looks as Helena goes away and then she's looking for exits. Yes! Exits, because she shouldn't be next to him, not this man. Noppeee. The seer looks at Michael and then to the windows and then to where Kaylee disappeared and then to Peter and then to where Eileen disappeared and then towards Lilah and and Helena's back. "Fuck." She says softly and then looks up to Michael, after snagging a drink, two actually. She hands one towards Michael, "Drink?" she asks softly. It appears Eve's only made up of one word phrases around Michael.

"I don't even want to think about Madaga— " Sanderson's eyes open wide when she's halfway through that sentence, hissing out a sharp breath as she pulls her tiny azure blue purse off from her forearm. "Th— Thanks for reminding me actually." Unzipping the top she takes out a small orange pill bottle, rattling capsules inside as she unscrews the cap and pops out two of them. They're tossed dry into her mouth, swallowed down hastily and chased with a quick swig of champagne.

Swallowing exasperatedly, Sanderson offers a side-long look to Rachel. "Sorry I— I almost forgot my meds, thanks for reminding me." Screwing the cap back on, she places the bottle back into her purse and zippers it shut, turning to look at Michael and Helena as the young woman hands his cell phone back. Shaking her head, Sanderson's eyes follow Michael as he wordlessly folds the phone closed and tucks it inside of his jacket. "I… have no chance with him, do I?" Sanderson asks in a disheartened voice, looking over to Rachel.

Across the ballroom and on the dancefloor, Peter shakes his head and offers up a nervous laugh to Melissa. "No, no it's… it's just, I'm not used to this whole public event thing? I was— " If only he knew who she worked for, Peter probably wouldn't be so clammed up. "I was sort've a recluse for a long time, kept to myself and… I guess getting out in public and meeting new people's still… sort've a new thing for me?" Brown eyes angle down to Melissa, and Peter soon casts his eyes away from her and through the crowd, towards where an old, white-haired man stands and talks quietly with his mother.

Dark eyes narrowed, Peter considers Linderman's profile against the lighting of the ballroom. There'll be plenty of time tonight to shake his hand, for now at least he has something to keep his mind off of the rest of the evening. "How long've you been in New York? I don't know many people who— "

Something makes him stop dancing, stop talking, stop everything. Peter realizes the hesitation, moving a hand from her back to reach up to lightly brush over her throat. From a distance it looks like a surprisingly intimate gesture, but to Melissa she can feel the touch of his thumb moving over the injection scar under her chin from the Moab Federal Penitentiary.

Peter's brows furrow, eyes go wide, and there's just a silent stare in confusion down at Melissa, as if to wordlessly ask her; is that what I think it is?

Not far away, folding his phone closed and putting it back into his jacket, Michael Spalding is watching Helena Dean's retreat wordlessly, turning to look over at the voice clearly addressing him with some uncertainty. His eyes angle down towards the offered drink, and his hesitant smile indicates that he's taking it only out of politeness. "Yeah I, ah… Thanks." Helena's approach and the memory of Cameron has left him largely speechless. Clearing his throat, Michael offers the glass out in a cheers-like gesture. "Michael Spalding," he introduces, one hand coming out in offering of a shake. "It's a pleasure."

Rachel looks over at Sanderson, before she shrugs her shoulders and replies, "I honestly couldn't tell you, hon. But, if you're claiming him, then I'll back up. Don't need more competition between the units." She offers a smile, as her eyes look over the ball room, she doesn't comment on the meds thing. Or mention Madagascar again.

Melissa laughs softly and nods as Peter begins to explain, and when he looks towards Linderman, she does as well. It's only when Peter touches her scar that she looks back to him, going still as she meets his gaze. Her smile has faded at the reminder, whether intentional or not, and she lifts her head slightly, and her voice is soft when she speaks again, and lacking a touch of the warmth it held a minute ago. "Does my scar bother you, Peter? It wasn't something I chose to get, I assure you."

A few people walk by, saying to Eve, "Great job last evening at the Lounge." Or, "Don't you disappear on us again, Eve!" Or.. "Did you lose weight?" In passing, Eve nods to all of them and then tilts her head at the woman that asks if she has lost weight.

To Michael, she clinks their glasses together and then takes a long sip. "Eve Mas." She shakes his hand and nods her head, "I know." You look just like him. "I've seen the news and stuff.. and.. yeah." She says softly and looks closely at Michael, as if she's trying to make sure that he isn't really Cameron in disguise.

"That was surreal." Helena whispers to Delilah, noting, "It was like staring at Cameron, but with like, He-Man muscles or something." She starts searching for another shrimp puff when she spots a couple on the dance floor. Betcha it's Peter she's staring at, right? Wrong. It's Melissa. "Huh." she says, and remarks in wonderment, "I know her. She was on my side of the fence at Moab."

"Oh? She's new in town, too, I think. I've seen her at Lucy's a few times." Delilah otherwise presents herself as reassuring, making nibbles off of a little pastry she still has on her small snack plate. It's not that she's nervous, she really is hungry. Her eyes follow Helena's look, but of course go off of Melissa. "..Peter's so adorable, I want to just pinch him." Nice to know!

Clearing his throat, there's a narrowing of dark eyes and Peter's hand comes away from Melissa's neck. "No— No it's not…" There's a wary look around the crowd, and Peter manages to urge motion back into himself and the younger woman. Now his voice is more conspiratorial; hushed in tone and kept between himself and the blone. "I know how you got it," he explains in a quiet tone of voice, now watching the building security. "I don't know if you got a pardon, or if you faked an identification to get in, but whatever you're here for you're putting yourself in risk…"

There's a nervousness in Peter's voice now, head leaning back as he moves away from where he'd been quietly murmuring into her ear, offering a serious look to her. "I know where you were, I was there myself." Which seem somewhat contradictory to his previous chastising about her presence here. "Just— " Peter swallows tightly, "Just watch yourself here, I won't really be able to do anything if you get yourself in trouble." Which seems to imply he'd help otherwise in less obvious ways.

But then that tell-tale scar gives Peter a yet further personal question to ask. "What… do you do?" He leans in to ask quietly, finger glancing up the side of her neck again to tap the scar in subtle indication to her that he wasn't so much asking profession as he is ability.

Awkwardly managing the conversation with the seemingly speechless Eve, Michael offers her an anxious smile and furrows his brows. "Well, you know what they say, celebrity only lasts so long but infamy lasts forever." There's a crooked quality to his smile when he states that, offering a side-long look to Helena before looking back to Eve. "You don't need to be so nervous, I mean— I'm just like any other security guy here. They just happen to have put me on the cover of Pause— and— " Michael grimaces with a shake of his head. "You know, that wasn't really my idea."

Over by the wine bar, Sanderson shakes her head and just frowns slightly. "Nah, it— it's probably a bad idea anyway. I mean, businesses warn against inter-office fraternization, so— " The blonde shakes her head, brows furrowed. "I think it's just a case of being star-struck is all. I heard about him in Iraq, about his ability, the whole Frontline thing. I'll get over it."

Rachel nods her head a little while she stands there, "Yep, me too." She turns to face Sanderson before going, "You were in Iraq as well? Jeez, guess they really aren't all for taking people off the streets and making them members."

"Hahah right you are." Eve says softly to Michael and dips her head after chuckling, "I was in Pause, the editor saw me sing at the Orchid Lounge." She says softly and then she's looking at Michael and she's smiling gently. "I'm sorry, I have to go.." she begins to back away and then she's nodding at him. "Nice to meet you.. maybe we'll meet again." She says and then before she can stop herself she touches his arm and leans in to whisper, "I'm sorry about Cam." And then she's practically running towards the door. Walking really fast really but still trying to get away. Away from Cameron's memory.

Eve has left.

For the moment Melissa seems ignorant of Helena's presence. But then, given her current topic of conversation, that's not really all that surprising. When Peter admits to being in there himself her eyes narrow ever so slightly, and she glances down to his neck, for just a second. "I'm at risk every day. That can't be helped," she murmurs quietly. Her head tilts slightly, and she resumes dancing only when he does, following his lead still, at least for that. "I can't give up and go away, not when there are others like us who need help." She draws in a slow breath, then continues. "You wanna know mine, you tell me yours first. I didn't expect to be outted quite so easily here tonight."

Gillian has arrived.

"Yeah," Helena says. She allots herself exactly 8 seconds of being wistful of how Peter looks in a tux, and then, "I want to go talk to her, but I don't want to disrupt them, or make a scene. I guess I'll go up to them once the dance is over." She can't help but add, "I didn't even get a 'nice dress, Hel' from him." The corners of her mouth curve up wryly. "Jerk. I'll just wait til the song ends." She leans into her not-date, briefly tilting her head toward Dee's shoulder in a gesture of affection. Apparently she missed Eileen entirely, which kind of sucks, because that would have been interesting.

Delilah's arm goes around the back of Helena's shoulders, and the redhead mostly keeps her eyes over on Peter and Melissa. "You know if you let me I'd go right over to them and disrupt anything? I won't though, sounds like you wouldn't want me to either." Hmmmmmmm. "Just say the word though." If Helena wants to sic Dee on Peter, that's fine! All smiles.

"You could help it by not making yourself a target of attention…" Peter quietly explains, sidestepping around another pair of dancers, letting his hand settle on the small of Melissa's back, other hand still occupied with hers. At first, Peter wants to wonder how she figures he has an ability. because it never really dawns on him that he sort've gave that away by saying he was at Moab. Grimacing, he leans in a little closer to her, "It changes…" he indirectly explains, "or it can. So, I'm wondering what it is you do, because— maybe it's time for a change."

But for all that he's finally starting to relax, dancing with the younger woman, Melissa eventually feels a tension rise up in one of his shoulders. His back stiffens, and he looks up in the way a dog does when hearing a hith-pitched whistle. That subtle sense of amplification that comes washing over Peter is like an early-warning alarm for crazy.

Brows furrowed, he looks down at Melissa nervously. "You… might want to make yourself scarce," Peter admits, halting the dance and gently moving his hand away from Melissa's back, letting the hand he was holding go. "I ah— someone— " There's really no way to explain it neatly. "It's kind of like a jealous ex, but not?" One dark brow comes up, and he doesn't like the way the words sound when they come off of his tongue.

Near the entrance to the ballroom, Michael stares in the direction Eve left from, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, before he steels himself and nods his head once. He doesn't really need to let Sanderson know that he's done for the night. His soured expression says it all as he makes his way out of the ballroom, lips downturned into a frown.

Wendy has arrived.

Rachel watches Michael leave, before looking over at Sanderson and says, "Well, how about a quick exit? I can get us both back to the base before Michael can get there." She's about had her full of frippiery herself, even if some of the men dancing make it a little easier to bear.

"Oh yes, I'm waving a red flag and demanding attention," Melissa mutters dryly. Then his reaction has her pausing, a brow arching slightly. "That makes no sense, but sure. You wanna talk more about this sometime…" She goes oh so classy and draws a business card from where it was apparently tucked into her bra — after all, where /else/ is she supposed to put it? — before handing it to him. It has no name, just a number. "Give me a call." Then her smile returns and she nods slightly to Peter before moving off the dance floor, and towards the nearest tray of alcohol.

Jealous ex, but not? Well, there's a slight leakage of energy that all Evolved will feel moving into the room from a young woman all in black. Black heels that give her a couple inches, but not enough to tower over good sized people, black fabric in strips that covers her from neck to knees. Or— mostly. There's this lace that does more of the covering. The see-through quality of the lace gives the illusion of transparency, hinting at curves and figure, without outright making her nude.

And Gillian smells of cigarettes too. The cigarette left behind in a discarded wine glass, she's now picking at an tray and biting into a cracker spread with something fancy. It doesn't stop the tingling of the wine, the injected empath courage that she's been given, or the nerve settling of her now abandoned cigarette.

Hazel eyes scan the room, until she spots at least a few people she knows— Dee and Helena, they both get a dimpled smile, and a wave of her half eaten cracker… which she then ends up dropping. Oops.

She nudges it aside with her shoe, and begins to look around—

And look at Peter. Dancing with someone. Who stuffed his number in her bra. Jealous not-really-ex reaction? Well, if one considers the dimples vanishing and a drink on the wine jealous reaction, then perhaps.

Helena coughs a little bit. From her bra. Straightening her shoulders, she starts to walk toward the pair, when the subtle wash of power increase hits her senses and she frowns, looking about. Two things - she may now be in Melissa's line of sight, and someone she's had an urge to give a piece of her mind 'may yet be coming into hers.

Delilah lifts a hand to wave back at Gillian, only to feel Helena moving forward; her eyes pop surprised off of Gillian and after her other friend. This is going to get good, man. Dee isn't going to miss it for the world! The girl in the yellow pastel gown follows behind Helena with her hands controlling her skirt, much more noticeable as a forewarning of sorts- a puffy yellow beacon. Look out, Peter! They're all converging! Duck and cover! Every Petrelli for himself!

A business card? There's a raise of the card between two fingers, and Peter turns it around as he's watching Melissa move away and towards the wine bar across the ballroom floor. Standing by himself now in the crowd, he turns around and glances over his shoulder, only now spotting Helena. There's a half-smile half-grimace there, brows furrowed and teeth toying with his lower lip. He waves, hesitantly towards Helena and Delilah, bit once he sees Gillian added into this mix, it's so much like one of those bad dreams he had that he actually checks to make sure he's still wearing pants.

Backing up, and up, and up, Peter almost bumps into one of the dancers, still holding awkwardly the business card between two fingers. He fumbles it around, folds it in half and tucks it into the pocket of his slacks, then turns his shoulder as if to play oh I didn't notice Gillian there and tries to weave in to the thick crowd of people near his mother and Linderman, only to see that both Angela and Daniel have moved from where he noticed them earlier.

A frantic look around later, and Peter's side-stepping, looking around, and searching for an elegant solution to his problem.

His kingdom for teleportation.

A ballroom has considerably more people than say the rose garden, or the rooftop. The quick exit from above made to avoid the man who disfigured her, Logan who she was still mad at and the slut on his arm - who isn't really a slut but… she's on Logan's arm and it's not her. But she's here as a representative of her father and mother and the company so that meant she had to circulate. Besides, she was getting more fodder for her notebooks.

There's a mental note to get her books back when she takes one step too far into the room and wobbles. She has to blink a few times, reach out to steady herself on someone's shoulder shake her head and start to look for an exit. Ballroom, she does not want to be in the ballroom, and there's silent begging that anotehr evo doens't move into her range or that someone move out of it.

Logan has arrived.

Nicole has arrived.

"Yeah…" Sanderson grouses, reaching out to settle her champagne glass down on the bartop, sliding off of the stool. "Let's get out of here before Bentley gets tired of his date and comes around," the blonde exhales a sigh at the end of those words. A hand is offered out towards Rachel, dark brows furrowed, lips pursed into a disappointed expression. "I hate this dress anyway."

Rachel smiles and takes the other woman's hand and nods her head, "Yeah, want my fatigues back." She grins before there is a flash of white light by the bar, and Sanderson and Rachel are on their way back to the base. You found a teleporter, Peter! It was marginally too late, though.
Oh, the kingdom for teleportation. While Gillian would give up another kingdom for something else entirely. The wine isn't helping give her that nerve release. She craves it again… She takes in a slow breath, finishes off the wine glass entirely, her third one, and puts it aside somewhere. If she holds onto it she could be tempted to throw it, anyway.

Instead of continuing toward him as he might fear, though, she walks around the room looking for someone else entirely— a mythical figure that doesn't exist. The perfect dance partner who she can have fun with, laugh with, and not have to worry about being a total assface to her later.

But such a thing is that of legend.

Rachel has left.

Melissa comes to a dead stop when sees a familiar face in the crowd, and more, moving in her direction. She stares for a moment, and takes her a minute to snap out of it and continue towards the other woman. "Helena? Holy shit! I never expected to see you here!" She glances back at Peter, then returns her attention to Helena. "How've you been?" If she notices the power surge, she doesn't show it. Then again, she doesn't know who did it like some of the others do.

"I'm fine." Helena summons a smile, her attention brought back to bear. "Hello…Melissa." It takes her a moment, and she looks relieved. "I'm so glad you managed to get out. Things were…crazy, weren't they?" Peter is looked toward briefly, Helena's smile perhaps surprisingly calm. Peter Petrelli is speechless, and she is accustomed to this particular circumstance. She gestures back toward Dee and says, "You need to tell me what you've been up and come meet a friend of mine, she's - " she pauses when she sees a certain someone, and her mouth quirks in a way not unlike it would when Tabitha and her goons would approach her in the jailyard. That certain someone? One Miss Wendy Hunter.

Delilah pauses when Helena does, but keeps her eyes on Peter to smile at him when he looks over. What is he even doing? She can't tell if he is looking for someone or has simply gotten misguided now that he does not have a woman to do it for him. Aha. She eyes Melissa coming over, offering a short smile but inwardly feeling bad for poor Peter and trying to keep him in her peripheral. "We've met a little, Helena- not much, but, it's good to see you Melissa-" She offers to Helena and Mel, shifting in her yellow gown and glancing up in mild concern. "I'm going to go see if Peter needs some horse blinders, he looks kinda lost there- did you do something?" Delilah giggles to Melissa before she moves away from the two, aiming her way towards Peter in order to try and corral him.

"Peter, hey, you looking for someone?" Well, if she can manage to; if Delilah can literally corral the little Petrelli by hooking a hand expertly under his elbow, she does- if not, well, she's got her voice nearby him. At least her sudden absence will give Helena a moment to decide what to do about her Supreme Nemesis(tm) appearing.

The nice thing about dressing in a colour like ivory is that it allows you to blend in with your surroundings when they're are painted in pale gold and splashes of silver. Eileen's skin, too, is not many shades off from the pristine marble from which the mezzanine columns are carved. Although she had no way of knowing what the interior of the Corinthian's ballroom looked like when she chose her gown, it provides her with a kind of natural camouflage that has allowed her to elude Leonardo for the time being. Even the flowers embroidered on the taffeta fabric vaguely resemble some of the designs that snake around the columns' ornately-decorated capitals.

Her eyes seek brief flashes of Kaylee's long gold hair or the broad-shouldered shape of Jensen Raith in his rented tuxedo, but find nothing in the whirling maelstrom of lace, silk and tulle.

No sign of Epstein or Kershner, either. Damn.

Melissa's lips curve upward slightly. "Crazy's a good, if understated word for it." She glances towards Delilah when she's motioned towards, and she smiles, nodding in agreement with having met. She laughs at Delilah's question towards her, but it seems a touch forced. "Just gave him my card, though of course it was in my bra at the time. Why, do you think I should? I could, you know." She looks back to Helena then. "Who's bugging you now?" she asks softly.

Nicole and Logan enter through the gold and glass doors, the former on the latter's arm as a good date should be, and rather than immediately descend to the ballroom floor, Nicole is gently steering them toward a table set up with champagne flutes, and a member of staff who has generously offered to take Miss Nichols' dampened cloak. First, the hood is pulled back carefully and one hand smooths over the top of the dark bouffant style and over the back before she works free the clasp at her collarbone, giving her back to the attendant - and subsequently, Logan.

The fabric slides off of Nicole's shoulders and down, down, down… The skin is not stopping. Just when one might think that the woman's dress is obscene, and the way her long hair disguises the halter neckline makes the whole thing seem to defy the laws of physics, shimmering gold beads and sequins appear just as low as they dare, giving way to deep purple fabric and keeping the ensemble just this side of decent.

Nicole murmurs a thank you as her outerwear is taken by the attendant to be transferred to the capable hands of coat check. She casts a glance over her shoulder to Logan, knowing this is the first time he's seen her dress in it's entirety. She smirks. "Do you like it?" Did she just flirt with him? Maybe a smidgen.

"Long story." Helena supplies in a murmur. "Let me explain. No, explaining would take too long, let me sum up. That girl," she tilts her chin toward Wendy, tried to call the cops on me once, and we got kidnapped together and tortured. And I kinda got over that, except I think she might have sold one of my best friends Refrain, and I'm trying to decide what to do." There's a pause as she stares at Nicole's…dress. "Man." she says enviously. But no time for fashion, young lady! Her narrow-eyed gaze goes covertly back to Wendy.

Logan steps back from Nicole, and lifts a hand as if shading his eyes from a sudden brightness. Not that he can talk — decked in a dusky purple suit in almost the exact shame shade as her dress, with black and gold to complement. "You look smashing," he says, because really — being dazzling is a compliment, in Logan's book, his words certainly genuine as he offers a hand out towards her, eyes still glowing from negation even as he casts a gaze out. When he does see someone in the crowd, he pauses. "Here— I'll have to show you off in a little bit, think you can manage that yourself while I see to something?" he asks, voice low.

Freezing like a deer in the headlights, Peter actually tenses up when Dee takes his arm. His eyes linger ont he spot of dimming light where Rahcel Mills and Adelle Sanderson just disappeared. There's the faintest noise of disappointment in the back of his throat as he turns, looking down to the redhead with an arm hooked around his. "Ah, h— hey…" An awkward, nervous look is angles over at Delilah, who's deceptively tall up close. Grimacing slightly, Peter reaches up one hand to scratch at the back of his neck with Melissa's business card.

"You're— You— work at Cat's bar, right?" Somewhat managing a more honest smile, Peter anxiously glances over to Gillian, then that Helena and Melissa have converged and that's a little worrisome, and then back to Delilah. "You— we didn't date like, years ago or something and now you're come back for revenge, right?" He offers an awkward laugh and shakes his head, waving his hand clutching the card around.

"Forget I said that," Peter admits with a shake of his head. "Was, ah…" He looks back to Delilah, squinting. "Do I know you from somewhere else, though?"

Whatever Helena has planned, Gillian's putting a crimp possibly in it. Thanks to the wandering augmenter, Wendy's range suddenly goes from the fifty feet, to beyond that and including others known and unknown of the SLC. What doesn't come with that is her minds ability to process it. "Oh fuck, please no." The words slurred and the tuxedo's gentleman who she grabs onto turns with alarm to the brunette as she wavers again then…

Timber. Down she goes. Fish as her brothers have called her, does a repeat of Old Lucy's that night with Helena's dad. Knee's give out and the brunette thankfully doesn't crash down hard in part to the guy holding her arm. Thank you Gillian.
Delilah just smiles her commonplace little smile, one that looks absolutely natural to the point that it is also casual and somewhat reassuring. "I work at Cat's, yeah. And years ago for you was middle school for me, Peter." She smiles a little more impishly this time, belying her approximate age. Her hand on his elbow rests in the usual place for a girl at a dance, wrist winding there to keep him relatively in place. "We met because of your father."

Delilah tries to make it as easy an explanation as she can, trying to not flood her thoughts with awful memories of Pinehearst. "I asked you already, but- were you looking for someone or just bewildered by the fact a girl hides her number in her boob pockets?"

Melissa looks over towards Wendy, studying her while she listens to Helena. Brows lift when she hears mention of Refrain, and she glances back to Helena. "Did she know what she was doing when she sold the Refrain?" She smiles faintly, sadly. "Though I can't tell you what you should do. I know what /I/ would do, but…" She trails off, shrugging a little.

Nicole's blushing the slightest bit when she takes Logan's open hand. And when he tells her he needs to postpone their first dance, she's quick to understand, giving a reassuring squeeze. "Go on. I'm sure you'll be able to find me when you're ready." Freeing Logan up, she instead occupies her hand with a flute of champagne, taking short sips, so as to give the illusion that she isn't drinking the contents of the glass quite so quickly, except for the frequency of those sips.

"Have you seen the stuff? It's not like cocaine, when it's all, oh I thought that was just powdered sugar, sorry." Helena watches Wendy go down like a tree. "Huh." she says, expression neutral, and tilting her head asks casually, "What would you do?" Gosh, it's like being jailhouse jennies again. Memories, of the way we were.

Timber. Down she goes. Gillian catches sight of it in the corner of her eyes, but doesn't know exactly what happened, but she stops in her wandering around and avoiding looking at Peter, to glance toward the muttering at someone falling down. That leak of power seems to have latched on to at least one person, and she feels it, but she just doesn't have the desire to stop it right now.

Little does she know she just possibly did the boss of Phoenix a mild favor. "I need another drink," she suddenly says, as she wanders to find one. This takes Wendy out of her range for a few moments, at least. Lucky touch-slut.

Melissa glances back to Helena with a little smirk on her lips. "For drugging up my best friend? Oh, she'd be hurting. As badly as I could manage. Which is pretty bad. How else do you think we would've met?" she murmurs softly.

Released into the wild, Logan makes short work of moving through the ballroom, though politely, brushing past the lesser men who decided to wear formal black-tie instead of motherfucking purple. He doesn't stop for a drink — to be honest, he's had plenty, which can be seen in the more mundane brightness of his eyes and the slight flush to his skin. There aren't a lot of familiar faces here— okay, a lie, but eye contact is more or less ignored, his own island of too much cologne and Italian leather.

"This sounds like a waltzing tune to me," is Eileen's first indication that she's no longer alone, voice somewhere above her left shoulder, and then a hand gripping her elbow. "Busy?"

When Wendy Hunter collapses and a confused party-goer is forced to hold up some of her weight before she completely limp-fishes over onto the dancefloor, Peter doesn't see the collapse but hears the sounds of concern and confusion amongst the crowd. Delilah's question falls on deaf ears as Peter offers her a mild look and gently slides his arm out from hers, "Sorry…" he offers with a hesitant smile before nodding over to where Wendy collapsed, as if that is entirely all the explanation he needs.

Pushing through the crowd, Peter moves up on where Wendy fell, and the older gentleman she'd collapsed against is kneeling down at her side looking bewildered, and of course no one is considering calling for help, they're just staring. Hustling over to her position, Peter loosens his bowtie and drops down into a croucn, looking up to the older man. "What happened?" Peter asks sharply.

"Wh— I— I don't know she was just standing next to me and then the next minute she— " The blue-eyed man stares down at Wendy, looking a bit helpless. Peter moves a hand out, gesturing for the man to clear back a little, which he shakily does. Brushing a hand across Wendy's forehead, Peter leans in and listens for the sounds of breathing, then rises up to tap lightly at the side of her face with one hand while his other grabds her wrist and checks her pulse.

"Miss," Peter tries to rouse her attention, get her back to wakedness, "Miss can you hear me?" There's a concerned look spreading across Peter's face now, worried at the unresponsiveness. "Christ."

There's a package of cigarettes in the overcoat Eileen left at the coat check in the lobby. There's also a roof that's open to the public, and although she's fairly certain she saw guests smoking in the rose garden when she and Leonardo passed it on their way to the ballroom, some fresh air and misting rain on her face would probably do the woman some good. She's pushing away from the banister with its fat balusters and turning toward the doors when that hand finds her elbow.

"Does it?" she asks, reaching around to place one small hand on Logan's forearm. Let it never be said that she reneges on a bargain.
Helena grins a touch at that, and as she watches Peter rush over, "There he goes." she sighs. "Bleeding heart, and usually for the wrong people." A surprisingly callous statement from Helena, but again…"Dee?" she calls out to get her attention, and waves her over.

Delilah wants to follow Peter this time, curiosity burning and bubbling, but Helena's voice manages to bring her back first, both in attention and literally when she moves back to Helena. "Did you see what happened? I missed it, I was staring at his puppy dog eyes." Well, at least she's being honest about it!

Melissa watches Peter hurry over as well, her head tilting. "Some people have called me a bleeding heart too, you know. Just for a specific group of people," she murmurs with a little shrug. Then with a glance to Helena, she says a little more quietly, "He found my scar. Knows what I am. Can he be trusted? Or do I need to lay low for a while?"

Of course, by the time he's looking up, Logan can spy— yet another minor cluster of commotion, and he narrows pale eyes in that direction. No, he's not flying off to go see what the fuss is about, even if he might recognise the dress and the woman in it at the centre of it all. Hmm. Possible delay for a waltz. Let that not deter him, however, in the meanwhile. It's probably not common knowledge that not every aspect of his ability floods his irises poison green, and right now, they remain fish-belly pale as he puts a hand over Eileen's. Slowly, he guides them towards the edges of the dance floor, watching her more than those clustering around the fallen damsel.

"Know what antidepressents do to serotonin levels?" he asks, almost conversationally. "Neither do I, exactly. Not in words."

"That girl, Dee. Is she the one who sold you the Refrain?" She indicates the fallen Wendy and says, "Don't let his puppy dog eyes fool you Dee." Then archly, soft to Melissa, "Do you remember the day I went crazy on Tabitha? And they dragged me off to Red Level? I did it because he was down there." Her tone is quite dry, Ahh, what she did for love. "Prisoner numero uno. You can trust him. With most things. Not everything."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She couldn't get out of the place soon enough, what the fuck happened. Wendy just lays there where she's been put down, stuck on reboot of the mind even when Gillian dips out of her range, a picture of red marchesa and black hair contrasted with the floor. . She's left unresponsive physically, for all intent purposes, oblivious to the world. Inside her mind though it's different and one can imagine the fit she's throwing in her head mentally about not getting the hell out of there before… whatever the hell happened.

Delilah just tilts her head when it comes to Peter and what Helena says, but she soon turns to look to where the people are crowding. After a moment of watching she is able to glimpse the girl that collapsed, eyebrows lifting high. That is as good as an answer, right? "Oh- shit- yes- but she gave it to me for free, I guess so I'd have to come back? She didn't force me into anything…"

Melissa's brows shoot up, and she looks back at Peter, studying him more intently than she has this evening, even while she was dancing with him. "Ahh…Hmm. I'll keep that in mind." Then her gaze moves to Delilah, then back to Helena, looking at her questioningly, falling silent.

Brows furrowing, Peter tilts his head to the side. To the outward observer, he's simply scrutinizing Wendy, but it's what can't be seen that's important there. The push of his mind outwards into Wendy's assesses her senses, and that's where he finds even more confusion dawning on his face. To look at Peter's shifting expressions is like looking at a man listening to a conversation that cannot be heard, and it's only when he looks around at the crowd that he begins to try and piece together what's wrong. "I— think she's alright…" Peter offers in a quiet tone of voice, still holding Wendy's arm by the wrist, feeling the throb of her pulse.

Miss, if you can hear me, you're safe. Comes the projected thoughts into Wendy's head, I'm a paramedic. You've collapsed, do you know what's happening to yourself? He's reaching for her purse now, left on the floor beside where she fell, letting go of her wrist so that both hands can search for a wallet, pulling out a driver's liscense first, then a similar identification card. He looks it over, nodding his head once before sliding it back into her wallet.

Wendy? Peter projects into her thoughts, everything's going to be okay, you're in safe hands. Do you know what happened to you, is it because of your ability? It's an interesting one too, according to the text on her card, and it's making Peter assess her just a bit more carefully now. Telepathy, for the moment, seems to be exactly what he needs though.

Eileen had been content to observe the crowd press in around Wendy, neck craned and chin inclined as though making herself look more like a swan might give her a better view of the situation as it continues to develop. She recognizes outlines rather than faces. Peter's silhouette. Gillian's dress. If she'd been hoping that the other woman's fall would free her of her obligation to Logan, she is sorely mistaken — the live orchestra is under strict orders to continue playing except in the most dire case of emergency, and this does not fall under that category.

That's not to say it hasn't attracted the attention of the Corinthian's security personnel.

Eileen's eyes snap back to Logan's face at his last comment, focus sharp, and he can feel her tense beneath his hand. Her medication is in her coat pocket, too. "It's very rude to go through other people's things," she says. "Especially when they're you're guests."

Helena looks to Peter, then to Melissa and says of all things, "Caveat emptor." Buyer beware. When Dee confirms it, she doesn't even wait for the cautions, Helena is filled with tiny blonde atmokinetic wrath, and if there's a soft rumble of summer thunder, it's likely no one in here can hear it. But she picks up her skirt just a few inches in one fist and starts stalking toward the fallen Wendy.

Telepath! Oh thank the fucking god above. Not that she could tell that that really wasn't he could do. She couldn't tell what anyone could do if they touched her. Too many evolved. Shit. Range.. Range doubled, too many. I'm a fucking idiot. Need to be someplace without too many evo's. Less, less the better. Please. I'll be fine. This translates to everyone else as garbled nonsensical talking, Wendy's eye's open and staaaring off.

"I didn't," Logan counters, sweetly, guiding her past the spectacle and towards where the floor opens up into larger planes and more people. People have missed their steps, but certainly not everyone has stopped dancing. Clearly, the woman has had too much to drink. It's embarrassing. It happens. And turns out, Logan does know the waltz — if nothing else, the Internet can teach you anything — and he places a hand on Eileen's waist. One, two, three. "You know, you don't even look like a murdering stripper," is the compliment Logan extends to her, hand gripping her's clammily.

Melissa sighs softly. "She's gonna do something stupid, isn't she?" she murmurs to Delilah, before she moves to follow Helena, if only to get her back. Not that she probably needs it with Wendy in her current condition, but who knows!
"Ack." Melissa doesn't need a better answer than that, does she? Delilah follows too, unsure if she really wants to stop Helena from doing whatever she is doing.

The commotion on the floor below only causes Nicole to quirk an eyebrow, mildly interested in what's going on below. There is a part of her that feels her stomach drop and her heart sink just a little for fear that something might ruin this evening, but either the bubbly she's been sipping on all evening or a sense of optimism (or the comfort that so much has gone wrong recently that, really, it can't get much worse) keeps it at bay.

It's only when she spies the figure of Daniel Linderman that Nicole drains her glass in one smooth motion, setting the empty aside and making her way toward the man of the evening so she can steal him from a conversation she's sure he'd appreciate being stolen from, recognising the way the corners of his eyes crease just so when he speaks. "Pardon me," she interjects politely, resting one hand on Linderman's arm, "but I believe we owe each other a dance." So while Logan is harassing waltzing with Eileen, Nicole is gliding across the floor with Linderman. Logan may have his work cut out for him later this evening. It's clear Nicole has had formal lessons. The kind done in a dance studio, rather than from a video on YouTube.

Looking up to make eye contact with the security, Peter waves them over as he looks back down to Wendy. You'll be alright Wendy, just relax. I'm going to get someone to help me take you out to get some air and recover. When the well-dressed security members come over, Peter offers up an affable smile and looks back and forth between the two of them. "This woman's collapsed from— some sort of mental overload due ot her Evolved ability." Inwardly he's already blaming Gillian, he could feel the amplification wave when she came in. "Do you think you could help me take her outside?"

Admittedly, to the security team this is a win-win situation, not only does it solve the situation but it also gets Wendy off the floor and out of the public eye where it makes a scene. One of the security men hunches down and takes one of Wendy's arms and another takes the opposite, and the pair help her up off the floor, with Peter keeping an arm around her waist until they've got her up.

He's trying to be discrete about the fact that he can hear the psychic stormclouds in Helena's mind as she stomps her way over. Motioning to the security men to help move Wendy off, Peter reaches out tentatively for her, but then draws his hand back. There's a chuff of breath, and brown eyes search through the crowd for Gillian.

Control your ability comes off a tiny bit sharper than she simply psychic request he was going to ask her, and his frustrations — mixed with the anxiety of Helena's looming approach — turns it into something more of a command; and while augmented, those things get messy.


Memories are running like crystal clear pictures through Helena's mind. Memories of their first encounter, of being tortured by Helena's father together, of her father's death. It twines into something laced with frissons of outrage: You gave Delilah Refrain. You gave one of my best friends Refrain. He forced it on me, used it to torture me, and you GAVE it to her!

She's maybe three steps away when Peter's command hits, and she wasn't prepared for it, no time to erect the mental blocks she's learned to build. "Ungh." She winces a hand going to the side of her head.

Memories are running like crystal clear pictures through Helena's mind. Memories of their first encounter, of being tortured by Helena's father together, of her father's death. It twines into something laced with frissons of outrage: You gave Delilah Refrain. You gave one of my best friends Refrain. He forced it on me, used it to torture me, and you GAVE it to her!

And then suddenly she's there, by Peter's side, looking at Wendy with her expression frighteningly calm. "Hello, Wendy Hunter." she says. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

At the edge of range, Gillian's already ready to walk off to find a drink, so she can come back and claim a wide eyed dance partner, and instead… she hears a voice in her head. Suddenly the knot slams into place again, cutting off all augmentation going into the room. It's tight, tighter than she's ever had it before, even when her grip on just about everything else is loose. She knows that voice, and she knows it well.

No more leak of energy as she wanders back over, just to get close enough to look at the source of that voice. She's not smiling, but she heard. A lot more than he'd intended her to hear.

And she seems to have taken this as an invite to watch him, through a throng of people and dancers— at least until Eileen flits through her eye sight with a guy who looks familiar. Where does she know him?

She got arrested with him.

Melissa stops behind Helena, and slightly to one side, her thumb absently toying with the ring on her left hand. Who would've expected a skull in a formal event? She leans slightly into Helena, whispering, "Don't do anything you'll get arrested for. Once was enough, and she'll pay. But I've got your back either way."

More nonsensical babbling, Wendy's still staring off and to anyone else not a telepath, she's a strange woman who's looking like she's having a stroke. Lights are off and someone's stuck her mouth on autopilot and didn't input the requirement of talking coherently. She can't even help them hold her up. Oh fuck. Get her away, oh fuck, fuck, leave me along you terrorist bitch. Panic in the mind of the power detector. Get her away from me. She was gonna let her dad kill me.

Eileen falls into step with Logan, and when she moves the air displaced by the other dancers catches the train of her gown, momentarily exposing the milk-white shape of her calf beneath and the pearl-coloured heels she wears on her feet. Her body fits easily against his, though her small hands are cold, slim fingers curling around his to clasp tight and hold. "Terrorist," she corrects him in a mild tone that's as gentle as it is deceptive. Her mouth curves around a repentant smile, lips painted a pale shade of pink to match the rose petal highlights she wears in her dark hair even if the correlation couldn't have been planned in advance. The flower was plucked from the hotel's rose garden less than two hours ago and still shimmers with faint hints of iridescent dew.

"Thief," she adds then, her voice taking on a much lower, slyer edge. "Really, John. If you're going to call me names, you can do much worse than that."

"Me? Calling you names? Never." Dancing is not, perhaps surprisingly, one of Logan's strong points. That's a whole other brand of homosexual(?), the kind that does have dancing and complicated underwear and dinner dates. But he fakes it well for his purposes, and is certainly leading as they move not out of time with those around him. "You can do more to get at me than pretending like we're on a first name basis, Ruskin." By the time he's at her last name, hissing out between a thin smile, his eyes are beginning to take on that warning glow — but for all that Eileen can try, she can't really feel anything. Perhaps it's not her that he's targeting.

On second thoughts, perhaps it is, when the world seems to swim in her vision as they make a turn together, the squiggle of a headache beginning where migraines manifest.

Motioning a wave of his hand to the security guards, Peter slowly interposes himself between Helena and Wendy. "Woah there," he holds up both hands, shaking his head slowly, "easy— slow down." A look is angled back at Wendy as she's dragged off, calm down which is followed by a wince and Peter lurching forward, mouth opening in a silent gasp as he feels a pulse of pressure in the side of his head. This particular variation of telepathy that Kaylee loaned him isn't quite the same as Matt Parkman's swiss-army knife of mental abilities, and from the blood trickling out of his nose, it seems that one push too many makes for a very uncomfortable experence.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Peter wipes the blood out from beneath his nose with his thumb, turning dark eyes over to Helena. "Just let her go, she's incapacitated and needs space. You want to talk to her civilly afterward that's between you and her. Whatever she did, or whatever you think she did, just let her get back on her feet."

It's like being caught between two bickering siblings— and he knows a bit about bicketing siblings. A worried look is fired out to Gillian, but— it looks like she's okay so— "Just relax, Hel. Everyone just wants to have a good night…" He reaches out, tentatively moving a hand for her shoulder just to try and urge her back a little.

Melissa's attention shifts to Peter when she spots the nosebleed, and her eyes narrow slightly. She glances to Delilah. "Why don't you take Helena to get a drink? Or some food. I hear the shrimp puffs were to die for." She looks back to Peter, arching a brow at him. "And you…You need to get a breath of air and some water. And a napkin or something." She nudges Helena lightly towards Dee, then reaches to take Peter's arm, apparently goign to try to lead him off where she can play nurse…or interogator. It's uncertain which she'd prefer at the moment. Wendy? Well, seems she's happy letting the casino staff deal with her.

"Don't." Helena says to Peter very softly, very calmly, which really, might be more worrisome. "Don't talk to me like you think you have any sort of authority over me or cause to control me. I acted. You hid." Her tone is, as mentioned, low and calm. "And you have no idea." She lets Melissa divide them, allows herself to be drawn toward Delilah. Easy breezy. Everything's going so well! Lovely party!

Eileen's grip involuntarily tightens around Logan's hand, which is nothing new — she's done exactly this before, though the circumstances were very different and it was long enough ago that she would have trouble dredging up the memory if she tried. Much like she's having trouble seeing now.

At first, she passes it off as the consequence of too much stimulation at once. The orchestra is less than a dozen yards away and she can almost feel the vibration of the string instruments reverberating in her bones. It's hot out here on the dance floor under the lights amidst a colourful sea of movement that threatens to wash over them both if one or both of them should falter.

She does. But only for an instant. Catching herself before she trips her feet up in her gown's fanning train, she sucks down a hard breath, squeezes her eyes shut for the time it takes her to count to three, and then forces them back open again in order to search Logan's face for answers.

"Spurling," she grits out.

Delilah can only really wait to see what happens and take Helena gently by the hand as it seems to escalate into trying to get each other to dissipate. The redhead is wordless however, merely trying to draw Helena way from further confrontation with anything on this side of the ballroom, period.

Raith has arrived.

Kaylee has arrived.

Logan's hands work to steady Eileen, hand holding her arm aloft and his hand for once not trying to cop a feel where he holds her, but lending balance. Gentlemanly, like. "That sounds dirty, you know," he observes, with a flicker of a smile that's almost a gentle joke. Anyone looking at them would think they liked each other — probably until they saw Eileen's face and the tension going up her back. It's on the inside things are more dire. As Eileen looks up at Logan, there's no particular answer there — but his face is almost changing, green eyes standing out light the light is two inches from his eyes, a staticy crawl over his skin, and beyond that, everything is a flood of colour.

He twirls her again, mercilessly, even as balance is stolen from her — his hands are there to right her all the while. It's too bright in here, and the music sounds a bit like laughter or chaos, and the ground too hard beneath her feet. Faces blend as one in the crowd around her, heart races.

If Eileen didn't know any better — and mind you, it's hard to think right now, and that's the worst part — she's having a psychotic break.

"You okay?" Logan asks, a polite whisper. He's not, actually, sweat beading on his forehead in concentration, but it could be worse.

There's a small hint of a smile, a tug of the corner of Gillian's mouth. Just enough to make a dimple appear. Though she's not close enough to hear what's being said over the music, the continued dancing, and other murmurs of activity, but she can imagine what's happening over there. The order in her head knocked out some of the fuzz, and it most certainly stopped up one thing she'd lost a lot of control over. Her ability.

It's tied up tight, as she moves a little closer, weaving through— until she notices something weird in the corner of her vision that just doesn't look right. A glance is cast toward Peter one last time, with his bleeding nose, and then she starts to weave toward the two dancers, the tiny bird woman that she just spent the night with. "I think you should take her to sit down." The alcohol may have added a defiant tone to her voice.

Inside wendy's head as she's being bodily carried away, she does as instructed by Peter and quietens, the babbling stopping and calm settling over the power detector as they cart her off somewhere where there's considerably less evolveds, no augmentors and can recover from what just happened.

A tired sigh slips from Peter when Melissa's back at his side, taking him by the arm again and taking the initiative to lead him out through the doors of the ballroom to the hall outside. Peter's free hand is at the side of his head, brows furrowed, and already whining about being led out. "I'm fine, I'm fine…" he protests despite sounding like someone who got kicked in the head. With that different skinny blonde on his arm than the one he came here with, it's quite clear that this particular female is treating Peter like the accessory and is clearly in charge of leading him around like a lost puppy.

Once just outside the ballroom doors, Peter's eyes are casting about to Wendy, brows furrowed when he finds her being helped down onto a bench by the security team. He lets out an exasperated sound in the back of his throat, rubbing at the side of his head as he glances down at Melissa, grimacing. "You don't happen to have any asprin on you, do you?"

Then, after considering how he's evening's gone he ammends his statement to add; "Or a Valium?"

Melissa breathes in a soft sigh when Helena goes with Delilah. One crisis averted! When Peter doesn't fight against being led out, she relaxes a little more. On the way out she swerves to one side, scooping up a handful of napkins. "Yes, you're so fine you're bleeding. Been there, done that, it's not fun. And where would I keep aspirin hmm? With my business cards? I bet you'd get even more awkward if I popped a pill out of my cleavage and into your mouth," she says dryly. She stops then, offering him the napkins to clean up, while her brow furrows and she looks as if she's thinking very hard about something.

Eileen's mouth is moving to form words but no sound comes out except for a thin, breathless rasp. She can't keep up the facade any longer than she can stay on her feet, and this is becoming increasingly difficult with every turn, flourish and twirl. It's around the time that Gillian is appearing in her periphery, ball gowns and evening dresses all bleeding together to resemble a sopping canvas dripping with ruined watercolours.

The other woman's voice is a dull, unrecognizable roar in her ears. She finally staggers, seemingly the result of a loose strap on her shoe or one glass of wine too many — who can tell? — and the hand that had been at Logan's shoulder clenches a fistful of jacket between her fingers as her legs go out from under her and she slumps against him, chest heaving and nails hooked in the material of his clothes like a cat's claws.

There are many explanations for what's happening to her. Least plausible, at least according to the Registration card Logan carries, is the truth.

Logan's long arms promptly wrap around Eileen, holding her close and up. The dance is over, and for all the world, perhaps the young woman is having a fainting spell of her own. His breath is hot against her ear as he reminds her, "And my name is Logan." His mother calls him John, after all. The music is continuing and people are still waltzing, but apparently, Eileen's paid her end of the bargain enough for Logan, who— releases her, with a backwards kind of shove, his eyes going dull green by the time Eileen is staggering back, sent sprawling when the world tips beneath her feet.

He raises a slightly trembling hand to mop his purple sleeve against his forehead, moving off the dance floor before anyone can ask him questions, his own gait a little uncertain, as if drunk. Eileen has a few more moments of being off in her own little world, and she can swear, just for a second, that the ground is made of snow and a man with broader shoulders than Logan, paintbrush stroke eyebrows and a doggish kind of look to his features, is stooping to help her up.

Her hand only finds air, of course, which is all everyone else can see.

As she's lead from the roof by Raith towards the Ballroom, Kaylee spots a familiar person. "Shit.. what did he get into." Arm slipping from Raith's, the young telepath giving it a squeeze as she nods Peter's way. "I gotta go figure out what happened." Giving Raith an apologetic look, "He's my date after all." But the concern is plan on her face.

Then Kaylee's moving towards her date,"Peter?" She asks as closes that distance, glancing at Melissa and arching her brow. "What happened?" Her eyes cut back to Peter, look at his nose, then it occurs to her, her face turning to a sympathetic one. "You didn't drink did you? I told you it's really bad."

A snorted laugh escapes from Peter as he offers a side-long look at Melissa, brows furrowed and one raised. "Yeah, well— " there's a bob of his head from side to side as he picks up the napkins and dabs beneath his nose, smirking goofily at her comment about bra-pills. He doesn't really answer her about that, just looks her up and down with a crooked smile. "Remember when I said my ability changes?" He offers as if to change the topic, even if there's a crook of his brow a bit more speculatively in appearance now.

"Sometimes I forget that even differen't people's iterations of the same type of power work differently… I borrowed telepathy from a friend, and— she does it different from what I'm used to, and I pushed myself a little too hard." There's a squint of one eye and he pulls the napkin away, looking at the red stain on the white paper.

"That hasn't happened to me in a long time," It sounds like an embarrassed excuse as he offers a lopsided smile to Melissa. "Thanks for, uh, helping to defuse that situation back there. I don't even want to know what Helena and that Wendy woman who collapsed have against each other. I got so much angry static from them both…" He just trails off, shaking his head slowly.

"You didn't have to come baby sit me," Peter adds a bit defensively, even if there's an appreciative undertone to it. "But— thanks," he adds afterward, blotting the napkin over his nose again, eyes averted to the floor when Kaylee and Raith emerge from the hall. Brown eyes lift up, lips purse to the side and Peter offers a lopsided grimace.

"I just— pushed myself a little too far. There was a little issue inside, it's nothing." He manages a fainter expression of a smile to Kaylee, then clears his throat and carefully disengages his arm from Melissa's, scratching at the back of his head with a free hand as he keeps the napkin over his nose. "What're— " It's only now he really spots Raith behind her, "you two doing?" There's a very subtly accusing edge there.

Melissa looks at Kaylee. "Hey, I didn't do it," she says with a shrug, before she looks back to Peter, nodding. "Yeah, I remember. But you can /borrow/ abilities? That's…okay, do you take it completely? 'Cause if so, don't even think about doing it to me," she warns him. "And I'm not babysitting you. If I was, you'd be sitting down in a corner somewhere while I lectured you. I'm awesome at lectures. Just hope you never find out firsthand." She half turns then, glancing between Raith and Kaylee, then between Kaylee and Peter, brows lifting curiously. Or, perhaps, questioningly is a more accurate word.

While Eileen staggers back, she does get a helping hand in the form of Gillian, a arm against her back, to steady her some. "Hey, we should get you somewhere you can sit down I think," she says, eyes following the man she faintly recognizes. It had been some time ago, but she hasn't been arrested often, so he's recognizable. Even if she doesn't remember his name, or anything about him. Other than he was ranting or some such while they waited.

Or she thinks he was ranting.

"Are you okay? Did you drink too much? I think I drank a little too much."

Raith simply gives Kaylee a nod when she goes off to check on Peter. Fair deal: At the very least, Peter can certainly see that Raith has absolutely no further interest in him. No, what is far more interesting is what is apparently transpiring on the dance floor. Why, it's almost assuredly chaos, and where there's chaos, there is certain to be Raith. Even if he has to move himself around the room a bit so he can see better.

And what he see must certainly be Eileen and Gillian just short of realizing their true love for each other. If only because all the other, far more sensible and reasonable explanations are boring.

Nicole is blessing her closeness to Logan's height by the time she's finished her dance with Linderman. While traveling across the floor in practiced movements, she's fairly steady. But once released and leaving her partner's side so he can indulge the next conversation or dance partner, she's discovered that the champagne has finally done what she wanted it to do, leaving her walk back up the stairs one where she finds herself gripping the railing to ensure her balance is kept. The only reasonable solution to this is to drink more champagne until Logan comes to find her, of course.

Helena has left.

"I went up to the roof." A glance over her shoulder at Raith, before turns back to Peter and gives a bit of a tired look, "You do not want to know what went on up there.. but it involves.. Women in red tux grabbing his ass…" A thumb motioning at the Remnant retreating into the room. "Danko.. being.. himself and Magnes being…. well, himself. Raith, got me off that damn roof, it was getting kinda wild up there." The young blonde gives a soft huff, glancing back the way they came from. "Saw the guy that had been snooping around your place too.. but not for long.. he was dragging some woman off."

Her head turns back to Peter and her blue eyes study him, "Gotta watch what you do with that, handsome." Kaylee comments softly,hand coming up to press against his cheek briefly, her head shaking a bit, "Need to watch it for the rest of the evening, I didn't think to bring anything painkiller wise." She glances down at herself her hands brushing over her dress. "Not that I had any place for something." She sounds almost amused about that.

Grimacing and holding the side of his head, Peter offers a look over to Melissa with one eye closed and a brow raised. He laughs, shaking his head slightly at the comment about lectures. "Well," there's a jovial quality to his voice despite himself, "remind me to keep that in mind in case I screw up enough to be lectured." Fingers at his brow, Peter brushes away a stray lock of hair before he looks back to Melissa. "It's— more of a copy than a theft. My F— " No, he shouldn't go into things about his father, "My ability's kind've like a power xerox machine. I touch, I take, and then I trade it in for something else. Yours?" His shoulders rise and fall, "Whatever it is, stays right where it is."

Massaging two fingers at his right temple to ease the muscles that have knotted up there, Peter squints when he looks over to Kaylee, finding a bench in the hall to settle down on creakingly. "I should've not assumed all telepathy works the same…" He grumbles, one brow up as he waves a hand over to Melissa. "Kaylee, this is Melissa. She's…" There's a long, thoughtful pause, "…a friend of mine." Good enough assessment for now. "Melissa, this is Kaylee, she's a…"

God damnit how did this happen?

"…friend of mine and former house-guest." There's a furrow of Peter's brows and a sigh, and he settles forward on the bench holding his head in both hands with a grumble. "I think… I am probably going to go home."

He revises that statement almost immediately; "I should go home."

The smell of champagne is sweet on Eileen's breath. More noticeable is the aroma of her perfume dabbed at her neck and just above the swell of her breasts, straining against the material of her gown's bodice. Tears make her cheeks hot, wet, and carve twisting paths down her throat that leave her skin sticky and damp. There's sweat beading on her brow and clumping in her hair, loose curls with an oily consistency plastered to her forehead as if she just stumbled in from the rain.

Her cheeks are suddenly looking very pink.

A low sound like a moan rises from the bottom of her chest but does not breach her throat or lips, which she has pressed into a tight mold to keep from making any noise except for the ragged shudder of her breathing. She is very not okay.

Melissa nods at Peter, looking a little relieved. "Glad to hear it. I'd hate to break your nose," she says, sounding totally serious, but like she would be sorry for having to commit such violence on him. She smiles at Kaylee, nodding to her. "Nice to meetcha." Then back to Peter, nodding. "Yeah, was thinkin' the same thing. Party…isn't quite as party-like as it was. But oh well. Met a couple new people, and reconnected with an old friend, so not a total waste." Her lips curve then, and amusement springs back into her eyes. "You sure you /can/ make it home?"

Meanwhile, Logan is picking up a flute of champagne as he goes, a hand up to make sure his tie as straight as weaves up the stairs after Nicole. "Missed me?" is a greeting, voice innocent of strain, a hand moving to touch the small of her back, as much as he kind of looks like he ran a sprint. "I've had a good look around," he tells her, after taking a sip of champagne, "and I've confirmed we're definitely the most attractive people here."

Very… Very not okay.

"Eileen? Eileen?" Jesus christ. The only thing Gillian can really think of is that someone slipped a roofie in her drink. Luckily she's small enough that she can wrap an arm around her and start to pull her toward the doors that Peter went through not too long ago, as she frantically looks around for where he went. It's not that she thinks he's the only one who can help— he's just the only one she knows with medical experiences.

"Peter? Something's wrong with Eileen!" And she's worried, even panicing a little, in the buzz that still holds on to her, she's not sure she can get the girl home by herself. Cab, yes, but… what if this just gets worse.

Well, this isn't looking good. Gillian may seem to have things under control, but Raith moves in all the same, just in case she doesn't. "Christ, okay, what happened?" he asks, reaching out to help and once more drawing his attention to his ripped seam. "Shit, I need to fix that." Right! He was going to help Gillian and Eileen. "Bubbles go to her head or what?"

"Likewise.." Is offered to Melissa with a smile, before pressing her lips together in thought, then there is a small nod. "As much as I was looking forward to that dance, Peter." Kaylee settles on the bench next to him, hand smoothing the dress under her, giving his back a gentle pat, "I think your right. Crowds are a bitch, too especially if there are too many people thinking too loud.. and your already bleeding." Not too hard to figure who's ability he has.

"I can get him home." Kaylee comments to Melissa, giving her a small smile, before her eyes wandering to the ballroom door. Oh, they will not like this little development.

"Of course I missed you," Nicole murmurs, perhaps snuggling up to Logan just a little bit. "You look like you had entirely too much fun," she surmises. She subjects the man to further scrutiny as she takes a drink of champagne. "You also look like you could use some air." There's a faint nod of her head as if to say and that is that. "I know you were just dying to show me off, with us being the two most attractive people here and all," the very idea causes a small snort of laughter which Nicole quickly brings the back of her hand to cover up about a half second after the fact, "but I think we should retire to the rose garden for the time being."

While still carrying one glass of champagne, Nicole grabs a fresh one in her other hand. "We need supplies before venturing forth, you see," she explains, heading toward the large guilded doors before Logan can think to protest the fact that she rather resembles a two-fisted drinker. Largely because that's what she is at the moment. "Onward!" she proclaims, pointing out in front of her almost theatrically.

Logan has left.

Nicole has left.

God. Damnit. The moment Peter hears Gillian's shout, he's pushing himself up to his feet, wobbling a little, and then pulling the now dry napkin away from his nose and making his way back into the ballroom. This time just frustratedly yanking off his bowtie, Peter comes stumbling back in, dark eyes flicking around to look for the source of the yelling — which is quite clearly Gillian's distinctive voice. Spotting her moving with more wobbling Eileen at her side, Peter exasperatedly breathes out a breath and rusted over to them.

"What happened?" Peter immediately asks, bringing up a hand to brush across Eileen's forehead, retracting his hand quickly when he notices his warm her forehead is. There's a chuff of breath, a look flicked back to Gillian, "Did she drink anything? Did you see anyone put anything in her drink?" Ducking under Eileen's other side, Peter loops one of her arms over her shoulder and helps her out to the bench he was seated on, making motions for Melissa and Kaylee to spread out a little.

Anxiously looking at Gillian, he helps Eileen down onto the bench, taking her wrist in one hand to feel her pulse, brows furrowed and head shaking. "Here," he reaches inside of his tux, withdrawing a blackberry to hand out to Gillian. "Call 911, I don't know what's wrong with her but I'm not going to take any risks…" Of course he was perfectly willing to be a bit less jumpy with the phone with Wendy, though there's less subliminal parental feelings there.

Looking up to Kaylee and Melissa, Peter offers an apologetic expression. "I'm always on the clock…" he says jokingly.

Though really, he never does have time to catch his breath, not even at a party.

So much for getting that power he wanted.

Melissa glances over at the yell for Peter and shakes her head. "Damn. Boy is busy," she murmurs. But she's not an EMT, there's nothing she can do to help! She shakes her head at Peter's explanation and smiles a bit. "No worries. You got my number, you wanna continue our conversation, you know what to do." To Kaylee, "Again, was nice to meetcha. Good luck wranglin' him home." She gives one more look around the dance floor, then strolls away, apparently heading home.

Delilah has left.

Between Gillian and Raith, Eileen's ragdoll body is easy enough to maneuver and puts up little resistance. With Logan gone, she's beginning to come out of her stupor, but it's like swimming upstream against a current and she's very frail. "Each time I rock you, I think that you'll break," she confesses to Peter, her voice a husky murmur, though there's something familiar in her glazed expression that suggests she isn't talking to him all. On the bench, her dark-haired head lolls against Gillian's shoulder. "Glass eye, ice eye, pin eye, break eye — how you stare back."

Small hands reach up, find Peter's face and clutch at it, fingers tangled in his dark hair, and pull him down to her level so that her sweat-soaked forehead rests against his. "You hurt me," she says, delirious and fighting it. "You did."

"She doesn't need a hospital, Peter," Raith says, as if he knew better. He actually might, to some degree. "She needs to be in a less crowded space where she can breathe easier, that's all. There's no need to ruin everybody's evening by calling an ambulance, Peter. You don't want to ruin everybody's evening, do you, Peter? Of course not."

And then, things start to get a little strange. "Oh, see, she's already doing better. She just needs to faint for a bit and get some air. There no need to call an ambulance and ruin everyone else's evening after all."

Getting to her feet quickly, Kaylee kind of side shuffles out of the way. "Eileen? What the hell?" Melissa gets a short nod of her head, since she's a bit busy suddenly worrying about the Avian Telepath. "Yeah.. I noticed." She comments to Peter, with a small smile in return. "Good thing in this case at least."

She glances at Gillian as she's handed the phone, but for the most part Kaylee can only stay out of the way. Though Eileen's actions make Kaylee's brows lift high on her head. A glance goes to Raith, "Maybe he's right, Peter. Get her out for some air, maybe?"

"I don't know. She was dancing with this guy and…" Gillian trails off as Eileen starts speaking, taking the Blackberry and beginning to dial the number shakily. 911 doesn't require much work, at least. So simple, so easy. But the words Raith said attract her eye in a 'are you insane' expression. "How is that doing better? She's practically talking in fucking riddles. That's not better." Oh, Raith, she likes you sometimes, but they're no longer in Argentina.

She keeps letting it ring. As with most dispatch, she's likely to be on hold for a little while, perhaps enough time for something to change.

"It's up to you. You're the guy with medical training. But…" He hurt her… How did Peter hurt her? Gillian doesn't even notice that, despite all the emotional stimulus, the knot in the back of her head hasn't even loosened.

"She's delerious," Peter exasperatedly stresses to Raith with a stuttering waggle of one hand, "unless you know exactly what's wrong with her I'm not going to send her out for fresh air when she might have come down with something or been drugged." It's an accusatory tone there, right at the end, as if Peter doesn't quite put drugging Eileen for God knows what Jensen reason past Raith.

"She'll get all the air she needs but I'd be a lot happier if she got checked out." There's a hand on her shoulder, a worried expression on his face that wasn't there when dealing with a catatonic Wendy Hunter. "Just— " he waves his hand towards Gillian, "just call." A hand comes up, brushes against Eileen's cheek, and Peter's brows furrow. "We're in the goddamned lobby she can get air fine here…" One of Peter's hands moves down to Eileen's shoulder, the other one still measuring her pulse. "I'd rather call 911 for a false alarm than have something serious happen."

Tiredly rubbing at his eyes, Peter looks up to Raith. "Do you know what happened to her? Because last I checked you just got here."

"Peter," Raith says, his voice taking on the dangerous edge of a growl. He doesn't come back with an answer for what is wrong with Eileen, or what they should do or anything like that. All he has to offer Peter in this case is a simple statement that is half-truth, half-lie, and half-order. "You're in my spot."

Her head jerks over at Raith, at his tone, Kaylee know that type very well. She's spent a lot of time around dangerous men, toyed with a few. The young telepath moves away, since there isn't anything she can really do anyhow and watches from a distance, away from angry minds, arms wrapped around herself, waiting.

"I'm calling," Gillian says, shaking her head a bit at Peter, as she'd only left it up to him depending on how long it took. It doesn't hurt to try to call, since the wait can leave time for second guessing. It doesn't give much more, though, as she spots Raith being possessive, and looks cautiously at Peter, before finally getting an answer.

"Hello? I'm at the Corinthian Hotel— the new one? I forget the fucking address, but there's someone here who needs an ambulance. I think someone slipped something in her drink or something." So begins the explaination… Her voice doesn't sound slurred, but the raspiness is a little deeper, and more whispered.

And she faintly smells of cigarettes.

Brown eyes narrow, head quirks to the side, and with a furrow of his brows there's a motion up as Peter looks up to Gillian as she makes the call. "Fantastic," he adds a bit frustratedly in response to Raith. Releasing Eileen's wrist, Peter motions to Gillian, then carefully takes the phone from her to hold up to his ear, moving to rise up from the bench with a slow bend at the waist.

Looking down to Eileen, Peter's brows raise slowly. She's stopped babbling by the time Peter's thought to start speaking again, and it makes him strain out a sigh through both nostrils slowly. He looks to Raith, then looks back to Eileen, and considered the delineation between the two things. Between interfering and letting Eileen go into Raith's hands.

He swallows, noisily, and then furrows his brows before finally answering the voice on the other end. "Hi, I'm at 2109 Broadway, I need an ambulance sent over. I've got a white female, twenty— " There's a hitch between numbers, "one years old." He'd forgotten her birthday. "She's exhibiting fever-like symptoms and delerium. Yeah— yes, I'm an off-duty Paramedic."

Off duty. The notion rolls around in the back of Peter's mind when he looks up to Kaylee, brows furrowed, then settles his stare back down on Eileen. "Neither he nor Raith know how to turn off, no matter how much Peter is trying to find that part of himself.

This situation makes it readily clear now that between Jensen and Peter, there's going to be a problem, eventually.

There's only spot for one of them.

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